Here’s the other poem that was commended in the Ware competition. Although I have now messed around with it a bit, because it’s impossible to type something out without messing around with it a bit.
The third time round you’d think I’d know what I
was doing. Things went wrong though and the milk
got stuck: every time I tried I’d cry.
The milk came out like glue and made me ill.
I lay in bed and shivered, watching things
go wrong; fever, bleeding, strange white lumps.
I’d pull myself awake at two each morning
to clear the block with an electric pump,
see slimy curds uncurl in plastic tubes –
poor cow gone wrong. I didn’t know if I
would make it. Once I looked across the room
over staling milk and muslins, cries,
and saw my husband watching – so far away –
my island bed, a storm that raged and raged.
I wrote this several years after the event – I never knew about tongue tie before. Here is a handy article about it.