The caress of his soft bristles,
scalloped for deep, pleasurable, cleaning,

sonic waves pulsating,
thirty-one thousand strokes per minute,

regulator rendering blissful equality
to awaiting molars, bicuspids, incisors.

Magnanimous rechargeable batteries,
enduring up to 2 weeks—alone.

His comely recharger light,
indicating imminent insertion into base.

The stimulation of his handsome non-slip ergonomic grip,
with automatic shutoff timer, singular of purpose,

pleasantly removing plaque, whitening teeth,
improving oral soundness and salubrious checkups,
thwarting disease, saving money,

my sonic toothbrush has enraptured me—
happy hygienist.

Posted with kind permission of the author.

This ode was among more than 100 responses to our invitation to write an ode to an “ordinary thing.” We share it here with delight and gratitude.


Poetry