Erling Haaland is watching himself
playing football on TV. He likes his long blonde hair,
the way it is tied as tightly as a wink saying,
“You’re safe with me.” He studies his long legs,
the confident strides only taken when necessary,
the thighs as thick as a life’s work.
He likes how he looks in sky blue
and wonders why his chin is far bigger on screen.
He’s telling himself to score, but he doesn’t score.
The final whistle blows and the TV goes off.
Erling Haaland takes a red plastic football
out of the toy basket and practices passing.

Carl Burkitt 2024