In the kitchen, thinking
about the way ducks float,
the strength of ants,
how beard hair knows
not to reach the eyes.
If giraffes need camouflage
it’s a shame they grow so tall.
Lunch has compiled itself.
The hob is off. Am I here?
The hand slips, pepper
sneezes over egg yolks,
changes the course of a day.

© Carl Burkitt 2022