Her friends don’t know
whether she’s talking with pride or concern.
She takes a sip of her tea, dabs her mouth
with a cotton hanky from her cardigan sleeve.
That’s enough about mine, she says,
how are your pups doing?
© Carl Burkitt 2022
There’s a train running through ASDA.
It sounds like a steam engine but
it’s wearing red corduroy trousers,
a pink t-shirt with a white shark,
gently scuffed navy blue trainers,
and a pair of striped yellow socks.
It doesn’t know where it’s going
but it’s trying it’s very best
to find me the egg aisle.
© Carl Burkitt 2022
A circular skylight sits in the ceiling
pretending it’s the only thing
shining light on everything. The warm breakfast
butter curls like a long lost hug
next to pancakes as soft as bedding.
Uninvited mushrooms pop up in the garden
and are welcomed with a wave;
this place is not just dog friendly.
A toddler is outside chasing bubbles
desperate for the fun to never pop.
© Carl Burkitt 2022
According to their email
there is a seat waiting with my name on.
I could go anywhere
for just a few quid, except here
where the hills are thumbs up
and blue tractors pop to the shops for milk,
a place where the roads are spaghetti
and the sheep have never heard of bills.
There’s a tree here with apples
who nod their heads hello
when you arrive.
I’m not sure how we got here
but I’m sure it involved sweat and tears.
© Carl Burkitt 2022
I mishear a kid’s song
and see you in a cartoon cloud
yelling at my thoughts to change
before it’s too late.
© Carl Burkitt 2022
Careful. Slowly. Hold on to the side.
Careful. Gently. Use your hands.
We don’t need to do that. Careful.
Gently. Hold on. Slowly. Careful.
On and on we talk to ourselves
hoping not to hurt ourselves again.
© Carl Burkitt 2022
I’m crossing my fingers
they call out to you, mate,
break from their shells,
wave, smile, laugh, anything
your fellow humans are refusing
to do to you down aisle 12.
© Carl Burkitt 2022
I’m watching
eight young men with red cheeks
and somber faces concentrating
as they carry a lifetime on their shoulder.
A dad is holding a sword
instead of the hand of his son.
© Carl Burkitt 2022
From the rusty bricked bridge
you are a view from the TV show Virgin River.
The sun has decided to float
above the water, shine a light on the stillness
and ignore the drama of the locals,
for now.
© Carl Burkitt 2022
Its sign is the mouth of a parent
learning how to communicate.
Today I watched a man
pour a packet of salt over his chips
and then a packet of salt over his sandwich
and I could see the magic trick
of my mum’s thumb being held over
the salt shaker hole pretending
to season my basket of scampi.
© Carl Burkitt 2022
Carl tells tales 