Look in all the usual places.
My ear is a purse into which I
placed all your stories.
Where is the name I
cannot remember today?
Faces crowd my brain and I
wonder if we are invisible.
Go through the alphabet and I
might find the path back to it.
Open for clues, how many times I
pretend to know the future.
Names crowd in and I
ponder; was it Keats or Shelley’
or Dorothy Parker whom I
swear liked the word woebegone?
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(Image by Audrey Mabee)
Pachofa-Unfinished 