The toddler is rubbing the head of his baby
sibling in the pram while their mother talks
to someone her words suggest she hasn’t seen
since that morning. The toddler looks
like a fortune teller running his hand over
a furry crystal ball predicting they will be
there for eternity. The baby will become
15 years old and hate her hair being stroked.
She will want to travel Asia and set up a charity
for displaced children. The toddler will stay
at home, build friendships thicker
than a front door, feed the soil that grew him.
Their mother is talking about the proposed
speedbumps for the high street
and Auntie Julia’s diabetes while
the toddler’s thumb slips into the baby’s eye.

© Carl Burkitt 2023