My son is reading The BFG
lying next to me in my bed.
The ice cubes of his toes are
melting above my right kneecap.
 
I think about the day his feet
will poke out of the duvet’s end
further than mine ever did and how
he will have to make the choice
 
to listen to his hunger’s fear
and devour the joy people feel
being themselves in the playground
or to invite them to sit in his ear.
 
Carl Burkitt 2026