When our ears are in different rooms
we invent conversations we never knew
existed. He’s buried where?
It’s like dancing with an octopus.
You have to be with him though.
I can feel my brain asking my mouth
to repeat a language not invented yet.
Why would I take a dead man with me?
I do though. Everywhere I go.
He’s not dead. He’s with auntie Jane.
He’s with everyone I guess; in the clothes we wear,
the records we kept, the calls we never made.
Jane’s Brian, he’ll get a discount to Plymouth,
he needs to be with you on the train though.

© Carl Burkitt 2022