La lune
et de la fourche.
Dimanche.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

Mick Hucknall looked
at his reflection
and gave himself
one
great big
pat on the back.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

The tarantula
badly damaged one of its legs.

Hearing the news it would have to be
amuptated
was hard to take.
Telling his best mate they’d have to pull
out of their school’s
twelve-legged race
was crushing.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

Vera’s headache persisted for so long
That when it went away
She slept with her skull
Clamped in a vice.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

The pedants went home;
Five o’clock finally
Putting an end to
There exhausting day.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

Marcus hated seeing
How much weight he’d put on
So he ate
His eyeballs

© Carl Burkitt 2014

On the tube today I saw man.
A man who looked like me.
An older me.
A man whose hair disliked his forehead.
A man with a face like one constantly suppressing a yawn.
A man whose eyes spoke more than his mouth.
A weather beaten man.
A people beaten man.
A humourless man delivering a warning.

On the tube today I saw a man.
A man who looked like me.
A man in my reflection.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

Paula Radcliffe
ran for
so long,
her head
fell
off.

© Carl Burkitt 2014