Painting the flat that Dave built

The carpets have been lifted,
the bones of floorboards look strong.
Jack Johnson is making banana pancakes
in the kitchen. The doors are open
like the smile behind a wedding camera.
I’m asked How many profiteroles did you manage?
over and over in the space between my ears.
Flecks of year-round tan are refusing
to hide behind emulsion.
Rollers are helping spread a heavy day
across walls as tall as a lifetime.
Manchester is thinking.
There is no dust in my eyes.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

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