The Orchid

by Heather Mackay Young

I thought it was dead.

Gifted when my first child was born
the responsibility of keeping both alive
unsettled me. 
                     Now, I have two 
children, an orchid and 
a dead baby.

How I wish she only seemed dead.

That she might surprise me
push her yellow face to the window
the centre of her purpled,
dappled in white.

I would want the first thing she drank
to be light