A Night At Frankie's Poem by poppy miller

It began with the keys
Slow and haunting
Like a breeze humming through willow
Building like seeds sprouting,
Shooting upward with short piercing
Notes that bloom in the listeners' ear

Liquor swirls in iced glasses
Fizzing onto distempered walls
Smelling of damp and rot
Like old bones

Only two on the dance floor
But it's enough visuals
As hips slither round
like entwined snakes
Tongues darting in, out,
push, thrust.
The gin working its magic.

The Mississippi was on them,
Rolling, as the trumpet sprang
Into action, painting the mood
Crimson as post-dawn groans
Sailed from russet raw lips
The elemental skin of rhythm
Wet with tacky sweat sinking
As the last strains of sax played out.

©

17/5/2016