In the shower

I rearranged the moles on my arm,
folded the window like a newspaper,
changed my eyes for lightbulbs,
melted the blinds into a pork pie,
posted the tiles to a badger,
sold the soap for bigger shoulders
then wrote your eulogy
filled with things only you would understand,
like the punch of mint shower gel
making a cracked scalp scream,
and sent you a text saying Hi.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

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