There is no baby in his pram,
he is pushing a box of fish and chips.
His shoulders look soft like mushy peas.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

You’re right, it hasn’t been great weather
recently. Yeah, he does smile a lot.
I know he should be wearing socks
but if you can show me how to keep them
on him I’ll pay you four hundred thousand pounds.
The flowers are doing pretty well.
It’s not a coat but it’s quite a thick hoodie
and he’s got a jumper and a vest on.
We moved about seven months ago now.
I wouldn’t call it babysitting, he’s my baby.
Yeah, we’re just down the road. It is handy
being so close to the park. It’s a chance
to meet other people.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

will remind your skin it can stretch
and that people have backs of heads.
There are walls but it doesn’t matter
because your heartbeat is in your heels.
You don’t need to share blood to be brothers,
the rhythmic bounce of your necks will do
and the joint noticing of the man with arms
the size of legs up in the air. We joke about
missing the train from Liverpool but we are
fathers with sons who dance to the sound
of fingers on kitchen counters and the
scratch of knuckles on trying-their-best-beards.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

He decided to be open
so unzipped his skin
and massaged his ribcage
with words hidden
under his tongue.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

I like watching you
watching your own hand,
discovering the power it has
and choosing to be gentle.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

There is a walnut door
and brick walls made from grey
with a chocolate ceiling
and a rug like a speckled pastel rainbow
and curtains that don’t exist
but would be beige if they did
like the set of cupboards and drawers
and the dishwasher is ghost white
but it doesn’t matter because the gravestone
nestled in the entrance hallway for John and Alice
is all I am thinking about.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

He mows the grass into a football pitch,
thick green lines as neat as his fingernails.
It’s cold enough for a hat but he doesn’t
wear one because the wind on his hair is
a crowd cheering him on.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

pointing at buses driving by.
When they leave your eyes
you wave and try to say Bye bye.
The man who was here last week
walks over and says Here again?
and I try my best
to say more than Yep.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

I give them with such confidence
he says he feels like he’s already there.
Which is good, because I don’t
know where I’m directing him to.
I’m not from round here and I can feel it.
But I am here. And that’s important.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

The chimney on the roof
of the furniture shop
turned its neck
because it was a pigeon
which was actually a dog
with fur that was foam
because it wasn’t a dog
it was a sleeping bag
stuffed with rocks
that were balled fists
made from bags under eyes
on the face of a ghost
looking at the roof
for something to look forward to.

© Carl Burkitt 2021