To be honest

Posted on December 18, 2020 by carltellstales

It’s always your eyelashes.
The pines of a Christmas tree
twinkling from the headlights
of buses driving passed our window.
Broom heads ready to get to work.
It’s always your eyelashes
and the way they curve
to the straightness of a death slide
on a south Devon holiday.
A sunflower folding in half.
A family of spiders giggling on their backs.
It’s always your eyelashes.
Miniature rakes dragging me in.

Smile

Posted on December 17, 2020 by carltellstales

There’s a rubber duck
in my bathtub these days.
It’s always smiling.
If the water’s too cold – smile.
If the water’s too hot – smile.
If the water’s just right – smile.
I hope it’s OK.
I mean, really.

My hand

Posted on December 16, 2020 by carltellstales

My hand is a slice of pizza.
My hand is a nappy shovel.
My hand is a retired ham.
My hand is an old lover.
My hand is a thousand creaky gates.
My hand is a mouse conductor.
My hand is a caravan for veins.
My hand is cotton wool stapled to a desk.
My hand is an overstuffed glove.
My hand knows what it’s up to.
My hand is a liar.

A bus shelter being replaced

Posted on December 15, 2020 by carltellstales

A giant harness wrapped around the roof
and, before I knew it, a mechanical arm
tore it out of the ground, taking with it
every fingerprint smudge from past
journeys across a faded map.
It took every timetable squint,
every smug on-time passenger look,
every late comer For fuck’s sake.
It took all the small talk and the no talk
and the please stop talking
and the let me know if you want to talk
and the wish we could really talk
and it just took it – bang –
and replaced it with a fresh start.

Longer and longer

Posted on December 14, 2020 by carltellstales

Harry Hill said
I realised I was going bald
when it took me longer
and longer to wash my face.
I realised I was getting tall
when I started standing further
and further away from stages.
I realised I was getting old
when peanuts found it easier
and easier to stick in my gums.
I realised I was getting low
when my body found it harder
and harder to connect with my brain
or kick off the duvet
or smile at people in shops
or enjoy the smell of baking bread.

The ingredient I most relate to in salt and vinegar Pringles

Posted on December 12, 2020 by carltellstales

Dehydrated potato

Sad?

Posted on December 11, 2020 by carltellstales

I almost cried on my barber today
when he asked me if I thought it was sad
how, at the age of 21,
he didn’t enjoy drinking
or going to parties
or being in large groups
and his best friends are his mum,
his girlfriend, and his boss (in that order)
and his ideal sort of day
is waking up when his body lets him,
having zero plans and resting
both his body and his mind.
When he sprayed my neck
with the scent of cloves and oranges
he’d hand chosen for the festive season,
I replied,
Your life smells pretty content, mate.
His laugh was soft, but long.