This is the point in the film
where you come back to life,
so I tidy my fringe to hide
the receding bits you won’t recognise.
I offer to buy you a drink, something
you never got the chance to try,
and I do my best to explain
the reasons I no longer eat meat
in a way you won’t call me names,
and help you pronounce
the names of Premier League players
I know you will love.
I offer to buy you a drink again
and you take my hand, fight
the urge to complain about the music
and recommend we get a taxi
rather than walk the road way home.

Carl Burkitt 2024

He took his shirt off and saw a pigeon
using his chest hair as a nest.
‘How long have you been there?’
he asked the pigeon, in a soft voice,
as not to startle the poor thing.
The pigeon said nothing. It stretched
its wings wide, feathers tickling his nipples,
and pecked his beak in a way as to say,
‘How long has your chest been beneath me?’
The man said nothing. He stretched
his brain to imagine a life without anyone
using his chest hair as a nest.

Carl Burkitt 2024

It’s a lovely sunny day.
Erling Haaland is doing a Peppa Pig jigsaw puzzle
on a living room floor in Turkey.
He has no other plans this summer.
Maybe he’ll watch some of Euro 2024,
pop to Costa for the odd berry smoothie,
or teach himself cursive writing.
He definitely won’t get his hair cut,
he enjoys the feeling of blonde waves
crashing against a head
with nothing to worry about under blue skies.

Carl Burkitt 2024

I know what lager the lad who volunteers
at the charity shop opposite my house drinks.
I nod at the owner of the roofing company
based next to the cooking academy
on the pre-school run in the morning.
I know where the bus driver has lunch.
Guests at BBQs tell me they saw me running yesterday.
I’m in the supermarket with my dry cleaner
watching him buy the bananas
he gives my son every time we walk by his shop.

Carl Burkitt 2024

I’d believe you
if she didn’t defy gravity
or calm every tide
in my chest.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Erling Haaland shines brightly
in his satsuma orange swimsuit.
He’s standing in the switches of whirlpool
next to the big swimming pool
cheering on an automatic plastic turtle.
It’s been a long season – new people,
new worries, new length of trouser.
He doesn’t say much without shouting
these days – you can see his chest punching
out at an unexpected rhythm change –
but, watching the title use it’s legs to glide
calmly through the sleeping whirlpool,
Erling Haaland shines brightly.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Erling Haaland is watching his mates play hopscotch.
They’re taking turns to jump on each hand-drawn,
chalk number and cheering each other on.
Phil Foden glides smoothly across the course.
Jérémy Doku adds a fair few unnecessarily
complex foot moves but gets across the line.
Kevin De Bruyne does it with his eyes closed.
Kyle Walker ploughs his way through
at lightening speed. Erling Haaland holds my hand
for his first go, and his second, and his third.
By his fourth attempt I am on the sidelines
watching the best in the world.

Carl Burkitt 2024

The woman in an oversized grey t-shirt with the words CHIP BUTTY written on the chest in calligraphy, the couple marching quickly holding greasy white paper bags in front of them like ready-to-detonate-hunger-grenades, the bench covered in what I hope is ketchup, the smell of battered cod swimming in the park’s air, the bloke lying in the grass swallowing a sausage like a seagull all basically just made me want chips for tea. So I got some.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Erling moonlights as the toilet police.
He barges the door open while you’re in there
riding his bumble bee quad bike/riot van.
Nee naw. Nee naw.
You’re under arrest for making a mess.
He’s proud of his accidental rhyme
and charges back out on to the streets
celebrating winning the Premier League.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Perfect.
The brother of a friend is
being attacked by the drunk lads
in the street. A chance
for my blood to remember
how to run into danger.
My fists don’t fancy fighting
and just let my chest
take an elbow to its soul.
My grounded head swallows a foot,
watches fireworks go off with an answer
to my therapist’s question:
“How’s your week been?”

Carl Burkitt 2024