Miniature goals

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

Real

It’s 4am.
Erling Haaland is in his bed having a nightmare.
He’s screaming through tears that he
is walking to pre-school and we won’t let him
have a packet of Party Ring biscuits.
He will not be settled. His anger is real.
It’s 4.10am.
Erling Haaland is asleep. We are awake.
It’s 7.00am.
Erling Haaland’s smile is awake
and he needs a wee. He says
he didn’t have any dreams last night
and asks if we did. We’re not sure.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Heptathlete

Erling Haaland shoved a bouquet of flowers
into an envelope and hand wrote
his mother’s name and address on it.
He had a big match against Liverpool
ahead of him and he promised her a goal
and a quirky celebration, perhaps a shoutout
in a post match interview to say
that he was thinking about her
for the entire 90 minutes and how she
craved chocolate first thing in the morning,
constructed excellent toy wooden train tracks
and would get lost in articles about serial killers.
He’d mention her resilience, her gentleness,
and bring up how she was a former heptathlete.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Oompa Loompa number 9

Erling Haaland is dressed as an Oompa Loompa.
He doesn’t have an orange face
because he doesn’t trust the paint will come off
but his blonde hair is safely tucked
under an erratic green wig bought online.
He’s unsure whether to smile at pirates, witches,
a giant puppy behind cardboard bars clutching
a copy of Dear Zoo. His head is facing the ground
and the crowd are ready to encourage him he’ll be OK.
He looks up, shuffles his feet like preparing to bury
a penalty in the top corner and says Good morning
to Batgirl as he walks into the classroom.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Peacocks

We are peacocking in the gym changing rooms
about our bad backs. You say you couldn’t bend
down to put your socks on this morning.
I say I couldn’t even get out of bed this morning.
You say you didn’t even get out of bed this morning
and this conversation is actually a dream.
I say it’s not even a real dream, it’s a dream
inside a poem and you’re not even real.
You say that explains the square, stubbled jaw
on your skull and the fact you are still alive.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Rough

Erling Haaland boinked his head
on the tyre of an obstacle course
and is telling everyone about his dog
that does not exist.
The coach says he’ll be fine
after a Friday off in his own home;
a chance to play with his own toys
and imaginary wagging tail.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Take off

The charity worker is standing
alone behind a branded lectern-looking stall.
His purple waterproof jacket is zipped
up to the neck and his lanyard is a frown
encouraging strangers to walk around him
with a wide birth pretending to look
at their phones. Erling Haaland has his arms
out at the side like an airplane. He’s making
the noise of take off, running down the path.
The charity worker softens his knees
and mimics ducking out of the way
of the aircraft. Erling Haaland flies off
the ground and into the clouds.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Pop

Erling Haaland is watching a bag of popcorn
rotating inside of a grubby microwave.
He likes the sound of the kernels popping.
POP. POP. POP.
Two minutes is one hour when you’re hungry.
POP. POP. POP.
But it could be a whole day for all he cares.
POP. POP. POP.

Carl Burkitt 2024