Ready Salted Frisbees. Mint E Boys.
I wouldn’t mind having the job of inventing
brand names for products in films and TV shows.
Strawberry Cartwheels. Cherry Bumbags.
The ones that sit at the back of scenes
in supermarkets or train station platforms
to make the fictional world seem richer.
Flat Chocos. Jelly Banjos. Cinnamon Bastards.
I would teach myself how to use design tools
so I could bring the packaging to life
with dreamy fonts and firework colours.
Coconut Rascals. Fudge Eggs. Lemon Danger.
Anything to prevent reality hitting our screens.

Carl Burkitt 2024

I am in a gym changing room
on a television sitcom
as six men, one after the other,
join in for a rendition of Stevie Wonder’s
“Isn’t She Lovely”. Their willies are out.
Bums are being dried with towels,
moisturiser is being rubbed
into stubbled jaws. A seventh man joins in
and it is not me. I am putting my shoes on.
Sara Cox returns to the radio
and I’m hoping the next feature is about confidence.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Susie Dent is on a podcast talking about antipelargy,
the reciprocal love of children to their parents.
She says its origins are Greek and stems from
the way storks look after their ageing parents.
My son is on the toilet, yelling to the kitchen,
telling me to stop cooking his egg and read him a story
because his wee has turned into a “tough poo”.

Carl Burkitt 2024

The drunk boys have started talking
about what toppings they will get
on their pizzas and the dipping sauce
for their triple cooked chips and onion rings
and the way that none of them actually know
what is making them buy another pale ale
or not pull up their Sunday league football socks
or decide not to call their immediate family
when a life changing event happens or
to sit on a park bench dedicated to someone
they will never meet and cry.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Erling Haaland is listening to John Lennon’s
“Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)” without realising
it was written about him. He’s too busy playing
football in the living to know Daddy has scared
the monster from under his bed and how life is
what happens to you while you’re busy making
other plans.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Mum holds umbrella,
keeps daughter safe
from rain that stopped falling
five minutes ago. Daughter holds mum
by the bicep, talks about the weekend,
Nan’s house and Mum’s cupcakes.
Mum and daughter stop
at street corner, daughter lets go of bicep,
runs towards a yet visible school
and friends in uniform talking
about Gladiators and boys.
Mum waves to a back and the sun,
keeps the umbrella up,
protects herself from sudden change.

Carl Burkitt 2024

They’re arguing
about how to say Hello in Latin
before their after-school tennis lessons.
Their mate is sticking a Chomp bar
up his nose.

Carl Burkitt 2024

I went to school with doctors
and chefs and teachers
and small business owners
and stand up comedians
and graphic designers
and nurses and boozers
and drummers and writers
and yoga instructors
but I didn’t got to school
with a magician. Or maybe I did
and he disappeared before
getting the chance to truly know him.

Carl Burkitt 2024

The cinema screen is telling us
the film with all the people in
about that thing
is out in a month with a name
but we don’t care
because our box of stuff
and cup of things
and bag of whatever
are stressing us out
trying to get comfortable
sitting on the thing
to watch whatever and feel things
and forget about stuff.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Erling Haaland does not enjoy giant marshmallows,
the kind you can buy from multipurpose shops,
you know, the type of place in a warehouse
sized building selling everything from
48 packs of Wotsits to wooden garden furniture.
He prefers miniature marshmallows.
The kind from a shop he knows and trusts.
He sits on the sofa and flicks them, one-by-one,
into his mouth shouting GOAL as he chews.

Carl Burkitt 2024