The words trickled into my inbox
with a sinister creeping wetness.
As the water submerged my ankles
I realised I’ve never seen a zebra up close
or held a trombone or bought a seesaw.
My leg hairs floated to the idea
I’ll probably only watch Godfather once or
twice more and read less than a thousand
books and have a different fringe each year.
Sitting in drenched clothes I made peace
with the fact I’ll never be able look
at a taut rope tying a canal boat to a dead weight
concrete bollard or a rustic wooden beam in a
Spanish villa on Place in the Sun: Winter Sun
without drowning in the knowledge
time runs out.

© Carl Burkitt 2020