Joshua Bocher, October 2013

Two Toothbrushes in a Cup

 

You told me you wanted
To sleep on the beach
So your dreams would be better.

I would like to believe
The ocean waves would calm me,
So I might sleep soundly with you,

Our ankles touching, like those
Two toothbrushes in the one cup
That remind me of me and you.

But it’s hard for me to believe
Any one thing, even water,
Could always be good,

Would never be bad.
When I was five, I nearly
Drowned, but I’m always

Thirsty (This you know,
You complain of it often
Enough). Sometimes my mind

Is a pile of spit, too complicated,
Wrought of multitudes pulled
Too far, in too many directions.

Other times, I feel my head
Is a translucent glass vase
With an arrangement of

Wild flowers, tamed
By your kisses, by
Your graceful smile.

And so my gray flowers
Fed with sun and with rain
Can be drowned, and spring anew

And flourish, for a time usually
Short, though occasionally long —
This whether my toes scrunch in sand

Or find the stones they touch too
Cold, and jerk back in fear —
As long as I know I have you.

 

 

Joshua Bocher works at public health non-profits in the Boston area. His poems have appeared in Subliminal Interiors, Spinozablue, Illuminations, The Germ, and Muddy River Poetry Review. He lives with his wife in Somerville, MA.

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