When Memory Fails

Standing in front of me, hand jammed
in left-thrust hip, right arm bent at elbow, 
palm outstretched, head cocked, eyebrow 
arched, Memory waits for me to recall 
a word, and I, trolling, watch her increasing 
impatience until her foot begins tapping
and then with a flick of hair over shoulder
she is gone, a wisp of snow blown from the tip 
of a maple branch in a delicate breeze at dusk.