Layers Of Love Poem by Lamont Palmer (Lamont Palmer)

As she lays, now, on that couch of small hopes,
she is the mate, draped in a complex type
of yearning, attempting to counter my blank gaze.

The beckoning never stops, the eye tilted
to catch a lonely, wanton glint; her mouth
would be too repressed to be as wistful as the eyes.

This unseen look has its place, in the scheme
of events, the way I can’t see pass the walls
of the house, or beyond the scent of ferns,

or beyond changes I have made: upkeep
of what is apparent but has gone misplaced.
She does not know the dynamics of ennui.

I often don't recognize what is there -
amid the haziness of a vortex
of bits of world, fragments of contrived reality.