I went to the fancy dress party
dressed as myself.
The outfit was cheap and easy
but I had to answer awkward questions
like ‘Who are you supposed to be?’

© Carl Burkitt 2023

I asked my pumpkin spiced latte
what it feels like to be wanted
only once a year and it said
it couldn’t hear me because
A) it was too busy dealing with
an ever-growing queue of smiling
faces that needed it – a group
of people that took time out
of their day to finally give it
the chance to be what it was
put on this earth to be: authentic,
unique, unafraid to stand alone and
B) it didn’t have ears.

© Carl Burkitt 2023

It was foggy.
Like, it’s not safe to walk
into those woods kind of foggy.
But he walked into the woods anyway
and never came back.
It would be easy to think the worst,
that he fell down a hole
or got stolen by men bigger than him
or mauled to death by a wolf.
It would be far easier to think the worst
rather than get used to the fact
an unknown haze
was more attractive than a routine
he could see through like glass.

© Carl Burkitt 2023

We made toffee apples to celebrate
our two year wedding anniversary.
You don’t like them at the best of times
but it was 2020 and there was a two month old
in our living room and we had to try
to be alive. We used chopsticks for sticks
and they just about handled their job.
The toffee didn’t set
and was borderline inedible.
We smiled with teeth
on a sofa we fell asleep on.

© Carl Burkitt 2023

I got tickled by a spider
for nearly three years.
The little bugger used all eight legs
at the same time to reach all
my tickly bits – you know,
belly button, under the chin,
between the toes, right earlobe,
calves, eye lids, elbows,
the bit in the brain that enjoys
the right amount of pain.

© Carl Burkitt 2023

I opened the lid of the coffin
and saw myself staring back at me
only joking
it was the person I was expecting
to see
only they looked like me
and were terrible with small talk
only joking
they were properly dead
and just a bundle of bones
dust
and stories that will be completely forgotten
only joking
the room was stuffed with people
sharing anecdotes of a life well live
and I was rugby tackled to the ground
for opening up the coffin lid and
only joking

© Carl Burkitt 2023

I walked
into a cobweb
and felt at home.
Wall, not cobweb.
Hole, not wall.
Mind, not hole.
Puddle, not mind.
Quicksand, not puddle.
Bed, not quicksand.
Nails, not bed.
Swimming pool, not nails.
Memory, not swimming pool.
Memory, not memory.

© Carl Burkitt 2023

A clown sat in the seat next to me
in an afternoon cinema screening
of a film I didn’t catch the name of.
We were the only two people there.
His popcorn box was already empty
and a bottle of gin was his breath.
The white paint on his face showed
no skin and his melted red nose had
lost its honk. I said hello. And he said
goodbye. The film never started and
the cinema never opened that day.

© Carl Burkitt 2023

A witch left her pointy hat and broomstick
in the reception of my office job. I popped
the hat on my head and took the broomstick
for a fly around town. It was a disaster.
The hat fell off immediately in the wind
and the broomstick flew me into the first tree
we encountered. I broke my nose during the fall
to the ground. My complexion was swamp-like
as I vomited from the sheer agony of it all.
An old lady with soft cheeks and a scent
of lavender offered to help me up. I refused,
utterly embarrassed, and slapped her hand away.
Back at my flat I stirred a pot of homemade soup
with an unnecessarily long wooden spoon and hid
from the night in a thick, black dressing gown.

© Carl Burkitt 2023

He’s built from the bits we had lying about:
wispy hairs from the bathroom sink,
penne pasta and veg sauce from the freezer,
bits of skin that rarely see the sun,
eyes keen to open, hands terrified of change,
a forehead attracted to the ground,
hips that move when no-one is around.

© Carl Burkitt 2023