Biting one’s tongue is painful–
Both metaphorically and literally.
At night, when my mind
Is chewing on some dream,
I wake-up with teeth
Marks on my tongue. Ouch.

I need my beauty sleep.
Throughout the day, I must don
The anvil-dense swagger of knowing
I have Lancelot’s jousting lance
In my pants. That’s how I roll.

Forgive me, it seems my
Train of thought has been derailed.
I know these are simply
Turns of phrase, but I
Prefer to turn the beat around
With Gloria Estefan;
We both love to hear percussion.

Copyright 2012
A. J. Hayes
Give a poet a pen