So without further ado, here's today's helping of the former:
A Little Tooth
by Thomas Lux
Your baby grows a tooth, then two,
and four, and five, then she wants some meat
directly from the bone. It's all
over: she'll learn some words, she'll fall
in love with cretins, dolts, a sweet
talker on his way to jail. And you,
your wife, get old, flyblown, and rue
nothing. You did, you loved, your feet
are sore. It's dusk. Your daughter's tall.
2 comments:
I like it - you're like a muskrat thats always digging up new stuff.
Hacobo
30 years in three stanzas. Somewhat gloomy for a father of a one-year old.
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