Stick to Football

Former international footballer
Jill Scott does not like my socks.
She says they’re too short to be ‘normal’ socks
and too long to be ‘trainer’ socks.
She does not like how they sit
just above the ankle. Her colleagues,
Ian Wright and Roy Keane, agree.
I am Gary Neville
raising my foot to the camera, laughing,
pretending not to choke
on my second croissant of the morning.

Carl Burkitt 2024

“Mummy, this is sad music”

She nestles
into the stomach of her mum
three years after she left it.
She’s worried about the musician
on stage playing music for sad people.
Her eyes are an open grey cloud.
She picks up a pack of blue,
red, yellow and green crayons
and struggles to draw a full rainbow.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Your name

The man in the pub’s mouth is talking about retiring. Grey stubble sits on a chin that’s taken plenty of knocks and his slip-on shoes have decided to get a taxi home safely tonight. His smile is a blank sheet of paper. His blue eyes catch mine and I’m 14 years old warming up for 90 minutes at centre back wondering if a girl will ever kiss my lips. He thanks me for keeping him company this afternoon and we exchange names. He says he’s never met a Carl with a C before and I decide to smile and not to tell him how he’s got your name but not your dead body.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Difference

Erling Haaland is fed up
with shooting practice
and has decided to cut the grass
with a plastic lawnmower.
His knuckles are tight
around the handle bars.
His blonde hair is proud
to move in the slight breeze
while his feet feel free.
The grass is grateful
for the fake blades.
Erling Haaland stops for
a drink of water, before returning
to making a difference.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Heatwave

It’s a heatwave.
Erling Haaland is reading
LEGO instruction manuals
in the backseat of a Ford Fiesta.
He’s flicking through the pages
imagining putting “that one there,
that one there, that one there”.
He’s singing along
to the official Wonka soundtrack
and dancing to the beat
of his own.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Three simple moves

The video on the internet is telling me to
do three simple moves to stop me
getting tight hips with age. So I try them.
I stretch my legs out and try to touch my toes
with my fingers. My hip creaks like a spring
on a 1990s pogo stick. I hear nameless friends
moaning how they’ve waited ages for a go
and the stream next to my house is once again
too big and filthy to jump across. I wiggle
my fingers to get closer still and I’m learning
to ride a bike. The path down the street is
a fist I don’t want to punch me so I concentrate.
I stretch for a third time and my hip cries
as I feel my toenails and I am born again
in a hospital with grey walls and two hearts
prepared to give one more body everything it needs.

Carl Burkitt 2024

A poem for the window of the pub

Your see-through skin
let’s me know what’s happening
in your heart
when I cannot step in:
dogs eating Mini Cheddars,
ale recommendations,
arguments over the best way
to cook liver between
men who have never cooked
dinner before, relentless lower
league football opinions,
vegetarian pie scepticism,
spliced crisp packet sharing,
relentless piss-taking, reluctant
opening up and hands on shoulders.

Carl Burkitt 2024

The London pigeon

The London pigeon was
flying directly towards me.
I didn’t move out of the way.
It didn’t move out of the way.
I didn’t move.
It didn’t move.
We didn’t move.
Neither of us moved.
Neither of us moved.
Neither of us moved.
Neither of us m e
v
o
d.

Carl Burkitt 2024