Puddles are the sea
if you can really be bothered
to look at it that way.

The tiny boy flying to school
on the yellow scooter is a seagull.
Check out that crab holding a briefcase.

The Ford Shark over there
is gritting its registration plate teeth
at the cycling dolphin weaving
in, out, in, out, like a relaxed tide.

Carl Burkitt 2026

The seaweed is exhausted
from the tide in Lagos not making up its mind.
She is lying on her stomach
underneath a Danger: Chance of Rockfall sign
telling fellow travellers that she has
“Had enough of the broke ones”
after “Paying one month of my exe’s rent”
because he lost his job.
I imagine his ears burning in America
as he sits on a sofa wondering
what to do with his freedom.

Carl Burkitt 2026

I want to climb into your nightmare
and punch the me that lost you

and watch as your mum joins us
to tell you everything is OK

and remind me to be kind to myself.
 
Carl Burkitt 2026

Billy on the street WhatsApp group is
giving away his old trifle bowl for free.

Light is reflecting off the glass
like freshly brushed teeth preparing
to chew through soft ladyfingers.

I picture holding the base of it
like the captain of Custard FC
on an FA Cup Final Saturday,
eyes bigger than salad spoons.

I can smell my grandparents’
front room, hard-soled slippers
pitter-pattering on kitchen tiles
in time with weekend rain.

Katie has messaged Billy
to say she wants it. I snap
out of the fantasy that I will
ever be like my grandma,
as my left hip screams.

Carl Burkitt 2026

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

A padel ball lands in the outdoor swimming pool
between morning breast strokers.
Karen (I’m not joking) to my right reacts
like a grenade was thrown into her swim suit.

She puts her toes down on the shallow end
and tuts, ‘This is unacceptable’.
The hairy-chested, goggled-dolphin
to my left and I make eye-contact.

He speeds up first before I can feel my legs
join him in the race towards the fallen missile –
the middle-aged equivalent kicking a football
back to a group of wide-eyed kids in the park.

Carl Burkitt 2026

BOY
We’ve not had a storm for ages!!
Look at the garden drain! It’s like
an ocean pouring over the grass!
The BBQ looks like a jet ski!
Oh wow! I could have a shower
in the garage with all of my toys.

MAN
Shit, the garage is flooding!

POET (same man)
I wonder how much it would cost
to pay a couple of plumbers
to surf through my possessions.

Carl Burkitt 2026

A Frog, a Shooting Star and a Pencil
are standing on the edge of the pool
waiting for the Coach to tell them
which one can jump in first.

The Frog isn’t listening. It’s too busy
waving at the flies in the shallow end.
The Shooting Star doesn’t need to listen,
everything it does is out of this world.

The Frog leaps head first before
a decision is made. The Shooting Star
follows and shines its way into
the Coach’s eyes at a blinding speed.

The Pencil listens too much. It’s stiff
lead bones are holding it to attention
waiting for a nod to try its best.

Later on it will tell me swimming is easy
while scoffing on a cheese sandwich.

Carl Burkitt 2026

I bought
a new A6 notebook
to write a poem

in my old A6 notebook
about buying
a new A6 notebook

despite having
an old A6 notebook.

Carl Burkitt 2026

After Roger Robinson

Swimming underneath the freshly crisp
crust of a crème brûlée with a straw.

The man with biceps on his biceps
in the gym changing room singing along to
Girls Just Wanna Have Fun on Smooth Radio.
His socks are even whiter than his teeth.

A previously unseen directors cut
of the Lord of the Rings film trilogy.
Each one is 17 hours long. I’m alone.
The sofa is a cricodiles mouth.

“Why are dolphins not fish?”
“Why do toilets have water in them?”
“Why do I have lips?”

An endless sudden phone call in Southampton.
I’m sitting on a windowsill of the room
above a house party of people
unaware this life is over.

The memory of the man
who has never met my child
but remember’s my child name
because he has chosen to be someone
who treasures what people treasure.

“Here’s your salted popcorn
and large peppermint tea, sir.
Enjoy the film.”

Carl Burkitt 2026