No brakes

A faceless alien landed in the corner of our bedroom.
It had four legs and cream painted wooden bones.
Its skin was woven yellow and tattooed with llamas.
It smelled of talcum powder and puke.
It was screams and laughter and learning
and a slipper stepping on the fast forward
It was a blowtorch having its way with a calendar.
It was a rollercoaster with no brakes,
an alarm clock made of sixty bum holes,
a piñata stuffed with every dream and fear
we’ve ever had waiting to shower our island.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

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