The Alsatian is running at the horse,
the brown one stood by the wire fence
not giving a shit. A cloud sneezes
and the horse immediately bolts
under a reliable tree to stand and stare
at the Alsatian’s tongue
trying to catch the rain.

© Carl Burkitt 2022

Raspberries sit at the feet of a T-Rex,
oats fly in rocket ships, a monkey
sticks its thumb up. Wheat in the shape of biscuits
rub shoulders with nut coated flakes.
A river of milk is painted across cardboard
holding a reason to wake up.
We probably shouldn’t touch the artwork,
but you haven’t yet developed
the flaw of not following your heart.
Every bowl you see is the morning
of someone you trust with your life;
why have fingers if you cannot point
and shout their names? This is a staff
announcement: a dream up on aisle 12.

© Carl Burkitt 2022

A border terrier bounces
on the sand-dusted path
running next to the River Mersey.
Its owners hold hands
as tightly as a found lucky stick
between miniature canines.
They smell of avocado,
poached eggs and hollandaise.
Their shoelaces look light
with nothing but the future
to walk towards. A bottle
of fake Lucozade lies wonkily
in my bag, digging itself
a home in my spine.

© Carl Burkitt 2022

There is a curled hair
spiralling out
of the side of your head
like an idea
trying to wrap itself
around reality.
You pull it
with a finger and thumb
and watch it
bounce back ready
to go again.

© Carl Burkitt 2022

The leaves are on the road
doing whatever the hell they want.

© Carl Burkitt 2022

sitting next to each other on a bench
on a public patch of grass
as the afternoon light hits their
walnut foreheads. They’re both
wearing sunglasses. Their mouths
have teeth the colour of factor 50
sun cream. I’m too far away
eating cheese sandwiches
and strawberries to hear
what they’re saying, but I imagine
a silver plaque dedicated to their laughter
being screwed to the back rest
in a few years.

© Carl Burkitt 2022

Because he climbed inside
when things fell apart.

© Carl Burkitt 2022

The twenty-foot long mop bursts
through the open top floor window
like a puppy entering a school playground.
Welcome to Monday! it yells,
Why not try a slice of cake with your tea,
wear a cap in your video calls,
put the TV while sorting your admin?!
White suds splash on the kitchen floor
like clouds who didn’t listen to the directions.

© Carl Burkitt 2022

Sit down, let me do it for you. I will
paint your eight foot forehead
on the empty billboard, flick freckles
on with bristles and gather buckets
of cement to make your shoulders.
I can sculpt your eyes out of the wheels
of delivery trucks, surround them with glasses
frames made out of pork pie crust and mustard.
There are plenty of fallen leaves and twigs
for us to make homes for the birds you feed,
a place for them to sing about
how your dashboard sized hands
are softer than a white loaf you know not to give.
Advertise your brand on this roundabout,
let people see every side of you,
if you’re ready.

© Carl Burkitt 2022

and it really is banging. Seriously.
The breakfasts are massive.
They have fruits and meats and juice.
You should feel the sun, it’s really hot.
I am literally looking at twenty seagulls,
they are gathered on the beach
like they’re having a natter, every beak
is the mouth of someone I have met
and not a single one of them is talking
about you. They are pointing at the waves
folding, the sand lying perfectly still,
the way the sky hangs with no help.
Not a single one of them is talking
about you. I have a few eggs on toast.

© Carl Burkitt 2022