The Tip of the Tongue

Crowding the tip of the tongue

        legions of shadowy figures,

        places once visited or

                   longing to be visited

        flexible formulas for all of life’s problems

        melting memories that meld into incognition

        the planets, your face, the name of the dog before this one

All on tongue’s tip, like snowy images on an ancient television

Fine tuning gone, picture fades out and in

Beyond the brink of substance

Crowding the tip of the tongue

        More than the number of angels


                        on the head of a pin

Nancy F. Rafal: My first gold star poem was written in sixth grade and was horrible. I’ve always written but mainly lesson plans and personal letters. Writing takes me places and is my exercise. I use poetry to probe the universe.