Your days are denser than Jack Bauer’s

Last Thursday you got kidnapped by wolves.
Friday evening wasn’t much better
as you slipped down the plughole.
I watched an avalanche crush you on Monday morning.
On Sunday afternoon a kite caught your sleeve
and took you to the other side of the world.
It was only 20 minutes ago
that your vital organs melted into slush
and your clothes were sandpaper
and your eyes were egg cups
and your teeth grew out of our elbows.
Do you remember when the loose nail
in our living room caught a flap of your heel skin
and unravelled you like a frayed jumper?
Every time I shut my eyes you are in hell.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

Sixth sense

If I have a sixth sense, it’s probably
the ability to hear seagulls saying my name.
Or knowing which guffs will be loud.
It could be remembering Eastenders characters
from the late 90s to early 2000s
or having a face that looks like a Craig.
There’s a chance it’s ruining the mood or over-ordering
portions of chips or being hyper aware when people
look even the slightest bit away from my
direction when I’m answering their question.
It could be never being satisfied with just one Twister
or never seeing Bruce Willis out and about
or knowing when everything is going to fall apart
and completely ignoring the signs.

© Carl Burkitt 2020