I Wish I'd Written This

Wonderfully descriptive.

 

First Kiss

By Kim Addonizio

Afterwards you had that drunk, drugged look

my daughter used to get, when she had let go

of my nipple, her mouth gone slack and her eyes   

turned vague and filmy, as though behind them   

the milk was rising up to fill her

whole head, that would loll on the small

white stalk of her neck so I would have to hold her   

closer, amazed at the sheer power

of satiety, which was nothing like the needing

to be fed, the wild flailing and crying until she fastened   

herself to me and made the seal tight

between us, and sucked, drawing the liquid down   

and out of my body; no, this was the crowning

moment, this giving of herself, knowing

she could show me how helpless

she was—that’s what I saw, that night when you   

pulled your mouth from mine and

leaned back against a chain-link fence,

in front of a burned-out church: a man

who was going to be that vulnerable,

that easy and impossible to hurt.

from What Is This Thing Called Love.

Click on the title to go to poetryfoundation.org's posting of First Kiss.  Click on the poet's name to learn more about Kim Addonizio.