This poem won Editor's Choice in 2-Day Poem Contest 2021

if there is no crease in a palm, how new is the baby
how new is the wound, how deep
when the doctor goes to wrest a sac from your insides
he leaves behind him a hollow you call cavity, lacuna
and you say doctor be gentle, her name is robin
(the bird that whistled in your ear whizzed past your head shit on your shoulder
the day the strip turned pink pink pink and you said o.
your nose was runny and you lost your steady, went all balter in the baby aisle
are you ok they asked of course i am
i am always

she is yellow jaundice mustard badly formed baby not healthy not ready and here she is
unbreathing on your chest, her skin so sheer you can see her little blue heart slow its thump
as she goes balter herself, goes nubivagant, goes away

(this cannot be undone)

robin you early bird worm bird little bird if i embank every river from here to petty harbour
would you forgive me would you forgive me for this and all the other small bad things