I knew I was dead
when a van pulled up
outside my flat
and the driver watched me
washing up my dinner plate
as he typed my every move
on his British Gas iPad.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

I often think
about the person who voiced
the Sainsbury’s self-service checkout
leaving a house party.
I hear all the guests
drunkenly shouting
Thank you, goodbye!
as she shuts the door, her eyes
unexpectedly stuffed with tears.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

A journey app
on my phone
told me my walk
to meet a friend
burnt the equivalent
of 0.3 chicken tikkas.
In its passive aggression,
it failed to report
the rice water steam
let loose by a needed chat.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

I’ve been around
a lot of death lately
and today I found myself
with a 6 month old baby
sitting under a war memorial.
It thanked the people of Wimbledon
who gave their life in World War II
and I readjusted
the bunny shaped woollen hat
on my son’s head
and let the cold breeze
take us on.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

The men were spreading
cement across the ground
like Marmite on toast,
after-sun on pink skin,
fake compliments at meetings.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

It took its time
slowly cutting
through gum
without a drop
of blood.
It’s rough,
ready to learn
the difference
between
milk and gravy,
lunch and dinner,
bark and bite.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

Written using sentences found by searching for ‘when’ in my WhatsApp search bar.

Did you look like Robbie
from Junior Bake Off when you were young?
My teeth don’t meet when I bite down.
Whenever you like!
I’m up for lunch when I’m back.
Please can you let me know when you leave.
They call me when he’s ready.
When we’re allowed, it’ll be lovely.
I can send a link when we’re back.
When’s a good time?
When’s your last day?
Let me know when you are free.
I’m alright, I’ll be glad when it’s over.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

He’s never said a good word.
He’s never had a shower.
He’s never grown a beard.
He’s never been on a bus.
He’s never whistled.
He’s never lost his keys.
He’s never had keys.
He’s never been drunk.
He’s never read a headline.
He’s never eaten bread and cheese.
He’s never said a bad word
and let it curdle in his brain
until he’s a puddle of custard in bed.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

I used to enjoy watching you
at a family buffet: casually entering
from the opposite entrance to everyone else,
gently observing the sausage rolls
on one perfectly balanced foot
like an inquisitive good cop.
Once they passed inspection
you’d scoop three on to your plate
and move down the trestle table line up
repeating the process with the crisps,
the scotch eggs, the quiche, the nuts, etc.
After a hard minute’s work, satisfied
you’d covered every inch of the scene,
you’d plod back to your chair
hiding the evidence of a ham sandwich.

© Carl Burkitt 2021