Poetry

flourhands (i)

flourhands rise mid-night from powdered pillows in

bed, massage knuckles, unknot muscle fibres smooth<

vegetable oil-lathered skin they haze-dream of fed<

mouths starch bellies and carb-tired eyes<

verging on a super-seeded sleep but energy

comes push-bike workers wheel down alleyways

driven by aromas cars speed tarmac gasping

for a kalamata loaf, finest olives found by Luis

eyes sticky patisserie displays behind sweet glass

tongs pick cumberland rum nicky for the smoke break

Jazmine Kelly