The first time I went to the GP
to tell him I was depressed
he shuffled his bum on his swirly seat
and told me I was at an age where I had to
keep an eye on my tummy. He was talking
about the shape of a car tyre and walking
and the link between the gut and mood
but I wasn’t listening, I was worried
my tummy was feeling as empty as me.
Thinking my tummy believed
it did not deserve nice things
or was sitting in pubs with loved ones
who adored it, smiling at them
with teeth it would later use to bite itself
made me want to keep an eye on it,
talk to it with more compassion
than a bum on a swirly seat ever could.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Meet Vinegar Jones.
He lives in tailored suits
and a trilby the same colour as his socks.
Vinegar carries around a squash ball
(as a homage to Rocky Balboa)
and calls people ‘Cat’ and ‘Darlin’.
His hair is greased back
and he smells like battered cod.
He enjoys reading crime novels and eating walnuts.
Vinegar Jones isn’t real.
He is nothing more
than the name of a fish and chip shop
in the Lake District
on a weekend with no plans
and time to let the mind paint some pictures.

Carl Burkitt 2024

The toddler chattering
at the other end of the café does not live
with me but the noise hits me
like an ice cream truck in winter
or an airport speaker system announcing
my gate is open when my fry up has not even
arrived at my breakfast table. I am alert
and my teeth want to answer her about
why the windows are made of glass
and why muffins are called muffins
and if the sky is ever yellow
and if tarantulas can juggle
and why no one in the cafe is talking
but the toddler chattering
at the other end of the café does not live
with me.

Carl Burkitt 2024

The service station is called Truck Haven
so all the trucks are getting massages
from masseuse trucks and eating truck grapes
without even using their truck hands.
A few of the trucks are wearing truck robes
and soft looking truck slippers on their truck wheels.
I can see one truck lying on its truck back
listening to truck whale sounds
while another truck is kissing its truck forehead.
The trucks look safe. They are not talking
about the weather or the weekend
or how work is going or how their back hurts
because this is Truck Haven.

Carl Burkitt 2024

The adverts have finished in the cinema
and the trailers have started.
Skin on strangers’ spines tightens in fear
as conversations quieten but do not stop.
The words What if they never stop
and I’m the one who has to ask them to stop
crawl slowly up soft drink straws.
The trailers have finished and the film has started.
Skeletons under strangers’ muscles melt
as conversations quieten but do not stop.
The realisation they will not enjoy the film
sticks in their teeth like popcorn kernels.
If you don’t shut up I will scream for one hour
says an anti-hero holding pick and mix.
Conversations stop. Bum cheeks on strangers’
bodies clap. Quietly.

Carl Burkitt 2024

so I change the subject
and talk about the way things are fine
and what holidays we have planned
and how the weather’s behaving
and I can hear the producer in my hear
relax, high-five his colleagues,
not even listen to what I’m coming up with.

Carl Burkitt 2024

He’s holding his two-litre bottle of Fanta
like it’s a baby, lying safely in his arms,
but it’s not his baby – it’s a two-litre bottle of Fanta.
He’s walking towards me on the high street,
smiling, and I’m smiling at him and his baby,
but it’s not his baby – it’s a two-litre bottle of Fanta.
I’m thinking about the soft skin on my son’s tricep
and how this man soothes plastic to sleep at night
but it’s not his baby – it’s a two-litre bottle of Fanta
and my back is a thousand years old, I cannot
wake up without thinking something has died
or we’re going to be late for pre-school
or this power I have over someone else’s
developing brain and not my own
but it’s not his baby – it’s a two-litre bottle of Fanta.

Carl Burkitt 2024

after David Attree

The word is ‘gather’ so I think about rakes
and dad arms and leaves pulled together
by a gentle strength with their brothers
and sisters and cousins to listen to tea-slurps,
smell cheap sausages on emergency BBQs,
watch the sun shine on uncle foreheads,
hear the sound of auntie jewellery jingle on wrists.
There’s a new word. I think it’s ‘home’
but it may have been ‘hope’ or ‘how’
as in, ‘How was it that long ago?’
or ‘How do we go back and ask how he’s doing?’

Carl Burkitt 2024

I can’t drive.
Even though I’m 37 years old,
whenever I see blokes my age beeping
the button of their car keys or climbing
into the driver’s seat or rearranging the angle
of their wing mirrors, I can’t help thinking
they’re too young to be allowed such responsibility.
I watch them
hoping they will turn round and insult my skinny
legs, call me ‘snappy’ because of my biscuit bones
and tendency to jump down someone’s throat
in the school canteen when they’re just joking.
I don’t care that they’re with their wife
or two toddlers or on their way to work,
I want them to sit next to me in German class,
to use their shoes for goalposts, to not die
down a country lane.

Carl Burkitt 2024

You mispronounce
the name of a game
and I disappear
deep
into the Earth of my brain
that exists to point out
errors and will not
die with the worms.

Carl Burkitt 2024