Dancing on the edge of consciousness,
teasing my tongue with the taste of its vowels,
I still cannot call your name.
I remember its sibilance,
know that it suits you,
recall it reminds me of seaweed and rice.
Still, I cannot call your name.
The details of our acquaintance are fully intact
and at my fond disposal.
All that I lack is the name on the file drawer handle.
Nameless, but with a warmth that overtakes me,
I reach for your hand,
secure that our history will carry the day,
redeeming even senility.
BIO: Sarah Knorr works, dreams and votes for a place at the
table for all. Her work has appeared in Tough Times Companion,
Streetlight, WMRA, and in the [forthcoming] anthology Sisters
Singing: Incantations, Blessings, Chants, Prayers, Art and Sacred Stories
by Women. Email: