Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Archive of the Day

I'm somewhat ashamed to admit that I was inspired to post today's archive when I saw it on the subway, as part of the MTA's "Poetry in Motion" campaign. All I can say is that I like the poem, and all I can promise you is that most of the poetry I read is not posted in subway cars.
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.


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