A Little Tooth
Your baby grow a tooth, then two,
and four and five, then she want 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' tall.
Thomas Lux's summary of life as a parent is today's poem because yesterday we had a small birthday party for Phineas Cade and I thought at one point such a big name for such a little boy -- of course he's called Finn. Oh, did I mention he's my great-grandson...
I was thinking also at one point of the book I mentioned in the previous post about attention. Finn had no idea it was a party for him, even if there were some new toys. He moved from one curiosity to another: toy, fruit salad, the dog's toy, one grown-up to another, wrapping paper, green icing on a cupcake ... total attention until distracted. And the grown ups talked about this and that and watched the baby and his 4 year old cousin who needed not much watching but wanted attention too. Pictures were taken and I thought of a picture from his grandmother's first birthday party, which she now remembers only as that one old black and white picture. Lux's summary is every summary from tooth to tall.
Igor Baskin paints - ShortcArt by Igor Baskin [image: Image may contain: stripes] ShortcArt: 'Poetry of Shortcuts and Headlines' project by Igor Baskin Former head of an...
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