Lamont Palmer Poems
Little Black Dress
Hanging in commonplace closets of plaster,
tempting colors from the emotions, the silk
slips like hidden thoughts from the body,
allowing a history of its own to flourish:
names, faces, symbols, intentions, which
are unknown. Questions are in the stitches;
and in the beckoning, as it is seen and absorbed.
A world opened. A forest steeped in radical
assumptions. Goodness held darkness.
There is the sight of black; there is its urging.
In the sense of it, a new sense approaches -
approaches from the heart of the apparel.
What can I ...
Suicide In An Old House
Death surrounds us with blatant arms.
A sanitation worker dies and no one
cares, but banshee phones striking at midnight,
summoning the equally unknown people
to altars of rancor and resignation.
What do they do but recognize a human
in the grip of edgy, illegible lives,