They’re telling each other
about their favourite finance apps
saying things like ‘trade’ and ‘interest rates’.
The starch in their ironed shirts screams
when they high-five to the word ‘dividend’.
The landlord asks them to keep it down
and the one on the left calls him a ‘prick’
while the one of the right wipes cocaine
from his moustache.

Carl Burkitt 2024

When Erling Haaland wakes
he is as alive as the sun.
His feet move too fast for slippers
across his bedroom floor,
past the wooden rescue centre,
over the basket of Hot Wheels
on the living room play mat
and into the morning kitchen.
Multicoloured cereals want to be eaten by him.
Milk jumps out of cartons.
Bowls fight for the right
to have spoons dipped in them.
The wind blows kisses through the windows.
His skin grows, lets the muscles below
get stronger than they were yesterday.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Nikki Pebbles wants me to dig in.
She reckons the pain in my quads is temporary
and I need to think about tomorrow’s grit.
The sweat sliding into my eyes stings
as much as my backside aches
to the stabs of my static bike’s saddle.
Nikki Pebbles’ red ponytail is barely even moving
on the screen attached to my handle bars;
her calves are rocks built to trample
on any thought in my mind to press the off button.
Nikki Pebbles wants me to dig in, again.
She tells me to spend the next minute
pretending to run away from danger
or issues I’ve never addressed
with loved ones or colleagues
or any thought in my mind to press the off button.
Nikki Pebbles wants me to dig in.

Carl Burkitt 2024

the poet sits at the desk
like
like potato boiling eggs
like a fish sewing onions
like an inside out door
like a disused chocolate washing machine
like
like a peacock wrapped in mittens
like a plumber on a lilo
like like
like a banker robber on a Sunday
like a ukulele on toast
like

Carl Burkitt 2024

Erling Haaland ordered a Buzz Lightyear toy
with a voucher he got for his birthday.
He spent the day at training thinking
about pressing the button to make it say,
“Too infinity, and beyond!”
and introducing it to the Woody
that already lived in his flat.
Imagining opening up the parcel
and flying Buzz around his bedroom
made him forget about pleasing strangers,
hitting the post at the weekend,
and the fact his bones were older than yesterday.

Carl Burkitt 2024

The commuter is watching The Sopranos
on the train to London. It’s 6.45am.
Tony is reading the back of a cereal box
at his breakfast bar while the world burns.
His hair has been touched by a deep sleep.
His dressing gown hangs low, showing off
a chest heavy with thick hair and dreadful decisions.
The commuter is eating a Snickers.

Carl Burkitt 2024

“Are you a book reviewer?” she asks
from the café table opposite me.
“Pardon?” I say.
“Are you a book reviewer?” she asks
nodding towards the book in my hands.
“I’m not, no,” I say.
“That’s a shame,” she tuts
biting into her cinnamon swirl.
“Why so?” I say.
“It would make you more interesting
than a man reading kids books.”
“Right,” I say
returning to my story about a little boy
who has turned into a superhero and exploding her with my super wicked laser eyes.

Carl Burkitt 2024

I am soaked in my dad’s Lynx Africa shower gel
asking my son not to yell quite so loudly
in a house I once bob-sleighed down the stairs
in a sleeping bag after watching Cool Runnings.
The floorboards on the landing
creak with respect under my feet these days.
It takes longer and longer to wash my forehead
in the mornings. I don’t use the toaster for breakfast
and I don’t even know where the sugar lives.
The garden exists for flowers and delicate pots;
I ask my son to use the soft football
and tell him the conservatory used to be
a patio we damaged with a pogo stick.

Carl Burkitt 2024

The lights on the Spider-Man pinball machine blinked “relax, mate” in Morse code. Bob’s fist decided to order a packet of salted peanuts and not smash through the game’s glass cover. Bob took a look in the pub’s beer fridge and couldn’t chuckle at the gamification employed by breweries naming their beers “The Wizard’s Quiff” and “Peter’s Parker Jacket”. His calves felt tight from the morning’s 4.5km run and his back throbbed like a mid-work migraine from an afternoon yoga session – his latest attempt at lunchtime mindfulness. Bob ate a salted peanut from his now open packet and sighed at its dry roasted flavour.

Carl Burkitt 2024

His phone is dead.
He can’t live without his phone.
He’s chatting to strangers on the train,
telling them about his day
and how his phone is dead
and how he can’t live with his phone.
His smile is half of the moon.
He didn’t bring his phone charger out
and his phone died this morning.
He managed to get the bus to the pub
and it was great to see the guys
but his phone is dead. He missed the game
and he punched a brick wall. It hurt.
His phone is dead. He can’t live.

Carl Burkitt 2024