A Litle Tooth(#3)

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.

**Hi Lovely Readers, as I am slowly healing and finding some respite from bloody garments, Miss M. has taken over the role of Class-A bleeder at our house. That little minx has yanked out three teeth in ten days. She’s kind of scarily motivated, like Linda Hamilton in Terminatior 2.  And guess what?  There’s a wiggly one on the bottom that I’m giving a week, tops, until it comes tumbling out.

Our Tooth Fairy needs public assistance.

Ah, those kids. They kill you, don’t they?  You pray for them to grow up and then they do, and then you’re beside yourself with grief.

So say hello to the Urchin, Readers. She’ll be a bit hard to look at for a while, but luckily, we love her anyways.

***One of my favorite people, The Absence of Alternatives, suggested that we continue to celebrate poetry month, so if you are so inclined, send me your favorite poem and we’ll revel in the wisdom and wonder of words.

Much Love,

Dana