Poetry 365

This collision of teeth, of tongues and lips,
is like feeling for the door
in a strange room, blindfolded.
He imagines he knows her
after four dates, both of them taking pains
to laugh correctly, to make eye contact.
She thinks at least this long first kiss
postpones the moment she’ll have to face
four white walls, the kitchen table,
its bowl of dry petals and nutmeg husks,
the jaunty yellow vase with one jaunty bloom,
the answering machine’s one bloodshot eye.