Forgetfulness Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Now that forgetfulness has settled
His spindly fingers on your shoulders,
Like cobwebs crossed with spider bones,
I am no one, I am no one,
And even if you furrow your brow
And press your tongue to the roof
Of your mouth, like a mollusk
Stuck to its opal shell, Showing
The world that your body is
Trying hard to figure out if I ever
Ran against you like a river in bed,
And saw by candlelight all the
Secret tricks of your unclothed skin,
Your body questions my existence;
And then you see him, the sinewy oarsmen,
Who rows you away, far away
Down from my broken vase rivers,
Into the calm of his suwanee lakes where
You body disrobes entirely of my sway,
And forgetfulness rises up before your eyes
Like a great white heron lancing your
Memory away and so you say
I am no one,
I am no one.