You know how people say,
“it’s on the tip of my tongue ..”
& what they mean is that they can’t quite
remember it,
they know it well, through and through,
but now – for some reason – it escapes them?
Well,
I need to tell you I was on the tip
of your tongue,
almost-but-not-quite remembered
almost-but-not-quite familiar
right there on the edge of possibility
of being brought into being, of being
balanced there, the whole of me
in your mouth, not breathing
the whole of me swollen and aching
sweet-sharp between your teeth,
the whole of me
breathless, breathless, unbelieving.
I was on the tip of your tongue
& felt you trying to find me, to pin me down
to spit me out
whole and hard and so soft-melted, and soon
your mouth hot-seeking me still
I couldn’t even remember
myself, or
you, or
why, or
anything at all
beyond that shuddering remembered shudder
you pressed into me
with the tip of your tongue.