Eyelid skin is too thin for light.
A lamp in the morning
may as well be a midnight sunrise.
The veins in my hands are always visible.
It’s a good job they’re under the duvet
when my wife flicks the switch at 7am,
my blood gets a chance to lie in.
You can see my knuckle bones
when I clench my fists.
I try my best to wave.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

You know those speedily said sentences
at the end of chirpy radio adverts like,
Early-repayment-charges-apply-
lending-subject-to-status-and-criteria-
your-home-may-be-repossessed-
if-you-do-not-keep-up-with-
payments-on-your-mortgage?
I think that would be a great way
to say awkward things to friends.
Like, You’ve-got-something-in-your-teeth.
Or, Sorry-I-can’t-make-it-to-your-40th.
Or, Tonight-meant-more-to-me-than-
you’ll-know-I’m-gonna-miss-you.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

I once said Goodbye to a poo
when I flushed it down the toilet.
I was incredibly drunk.
Last week I said See ya
to my final mouthful of toast.
When I leave the house with my
nephew or nieces I tell them to
Say goodbye to the house.
They say Bye house!
Tonight I hugged a man in silence,
wishing I was drunk,
wishing he was a poo.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

I knew a man who had a face
like he was forever walking against the wind,
like he was always holding dog poo bags.
He had the face of someone perpetually stuck
in the middle of two sneezes.
The face of someone just waiting
for the Frisbee to hit the back of his head.
The kind of face you wish you chopped down
to read its rings when you had the chance.

© Carl Burkitt 2020