The thick coughs of milk are my shoulders,
the skin under my eyes is the back of an open mouth,
the sagging bars of a clothes airer are my ribs,
the lines on a digital clock are my eyelashes,
there’s a constant feeling of forgetting
and that is the same t-shirt for three days,
my toes are legless sheep,
the bedside lamp is at the end of a tunnel,
my freckles are dust on the bathroom floor,
the welcome mat is a filthy pillow,
the alphabetised books on my shelves are all Zs.

© Carl Burkitt 2020