Dead Man’s Tongue

The dead man’s tongue wound round

my throat and I tried to speak.

My hands were dead with fingers.

My eyes were dead with eyes.

Just when I thought

all was lost

who walks in

but the cat’s pajamas himself

the moon and tongue of the moon

made of rocks and cheese.

Speak, Moon!  Speak to me!

Away he went

back to his moon, back to his tongue

in the language he did not know

how to speak.

A language nobody could speak