You’re working in the living room on something
important. I’m thinking about teapots,
words that rhyme with fish, how the man
who told me what aisle the pecans were
in the supermarket will die one day.
There’s a bloke in the café with a perfectly smooth
forehead. I imagine you ironing the creases
out with the weight of your listening. My phone
sings a little song to tell me about a celebrity’s
suicide and you’re still in the living toom
working on something important.

© Carl Burkitt 2023