Late Nights
A smokeless jazz club is a garden
scrubbed clean.
Three girls are drumming their nails
on wine-stained tables, percussion
to purple tunes, ticking a rhythm
that barely exists,
leaning their chins on slight wrists,
reminiscing.
The thickness of air, soaking of odour
into silk, languorous
inhalation of toxins, the pressed, gentle valley
in the skin of fingers.
The sax slides like treacle down the walls,
settles cool.
Lynn Tammadge was, until recently, a massage practitioner. This year, she decided to close her business and re-ignite her passion for poetry and words. Having graduated from Lancaster University with her MA in Creative Writing in 2012, she’s glad to be back.