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.
Added: on April 3rd, 2007 at 5:14 PM | Viewed: 2407 times | Comments (2)
A Little Tooth - Comments and Information
Poet:Thomas Lux Poem: A Little Tooth
Volume:The Drowned River Year: Published/Written in 1990
Comment 2 of 2, added on May 26th, 2007 at 4:19 PM.
as a 73 year old grandmother I read this poem on a New York City bus. It so moved me that, lacking paper and pencil, I memorized it. I loved " your feet are sore" but the last line really hit hard. dds
Comment 1 of 2, added on April 3rd, 2007 at 5:14 PM.
So simple a poem, and yet profoundly true and touching. I felt the sadness, being a father of a growings teenage daughter, and realizing, yes she is taller, and I am older, and I must let her go. Thank you Thomas Lux.
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Poem Info
Poet:Thomas Lux Poem: A Little Tooth
Volume:The Drowned River Year: Published/Written in 1990
Last read: May 15 2008, 11:05PM
Viewed 2407 times.
Added on April 3rd, 2007 at 5:14 PM.
Comments
as a 73 year old grandmother I read this poem on a New York City bus. It so moved me that, lacking paper and pencil, I memorized it. I loved " your feet are sore" but the last line really hit hard. dds
dorothy staller from United States