Two toothbrushes sit in a mason jar
on the bathroom counter. One falls,
pulled by gravity, head first into the other.
Their bristled bodies rest
against each other
and I do not understand
how such rigid objects can wrap themselves
around each other so softly-
I am longing for your nearness and wonder,
as I search my own flourescent reflection
in the bathroom mirror,
how is it that the insides of our pink lips can
lean into each other like this-
when our jaws are set against
a single, small word?
November 6, 2010