did anyone not get that the thing that I posted below (Mourning) was about someone who died and not something like a breakup?
Side note 1: you know you are a lit nerd when your favorite kind of gift certificate is to Amazon.com and you have memories of spending most of your Christmas money on books.
Side note 2: I'm posting one of my favorite poems below. Ironically enough, I saw it on the 1 train in New York one day on my way to work.
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.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
Lovely. Bittersweet. Dusk, indeed.
As for the other, I went back and forth about whether it was a break up or a death, and in the end I was happy enough not to be so sure. It was moving. Just call it fiction, then it can be whatever it wants to, can be true to itself without having to be "true."
Post a Comment