He’s sitting in the cinema seat I paid for
with his feet resting on the one in front of him,
so I sit silently further down the row
and try writing a poem about courage,
but it’s dark in here and I don’t want to
get my phone out for my notes app
so I do what I can to remember, when I get home,
to write something
about how anger is popcorn kernels exploding
one at a time in a shut microwave
with nothing to do but smack into each other
and how the man in my seat dropped his drink.

Carl Burkitt 2024