Recalling Names

My memory realizes, it is
missing something; a
name; her name. A
primordial siren call
whose sound, halts at
the tip of my tongue:
ta-aaaaaaaaa it shudders
to a stop. Or is it
ma-aaaaaaaaa? How
should I know? I am
just that silence harboring
names; a cluttered desk
with no real way of knowing
which name is which face or
sound? My memory is
missing something. It knows
it does. And as I look upon
strangers, my mind tugging
at the seams of my forehead,
I can only wonder if I am not
being deceived by memory.