I was slack-jawed, sleeping,
Dreaming of fences, birds, festival,
Discarded saints and elevated gypsies,
When my tongue slipped out of my mouth
And went straight to you.
It said things, glorious things, bold things,
And it did things, too;
Things that brought it home lolling, full of itself,
Trailing cats and canaries like confetti.
From that time on,
Though my tongue is back, my control over it is gone.
It whispers to me when I am
Slack-jawed, sleeping, dreaming of waterfalls, blooming arbors, suns burning in the faces of rivers...
The power of my tongue compels me,
And I go straight to you.
I say things angels envy;
I do things the damned haven't thought to try.
My tongue declares you devil's food,
And leaves us to our own devise.