Toothpaste Tubes Poem by Jonathan Ballam

This morning the toothpaste tubes
were fornicating.
Clamped in a sticky embrace, and
creased
at the
caps.

They sunk into my soft palms:
crinkled, embarrassed, and naked.
It was a first.

The window dew heavy with sex,
my toothbrush a slender finger,
two shower taps turned tempting,
and it would never be the same.

In the bathroom this morning
The toothpaste tubes set it off.
They never let go after the first
kiss

A zip flew down, the first domino
dived, a buckle blew off, the symphony
started



my hand was stained with
toothpaste.