The Tip of the Tongue
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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
Dancing
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.