Children Grow Up: A poet describes that independence best

They've grown up and moved on. Here's poet Thomas Lux's take on the tempus fugit nature of it all and the ability--or is it need--to let go:

A Little Tooth

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.

Comments

[Susan Adcox]

I love this poem! Before I saw the poet, I was trying to figure out who had written it. It sort of reminds me of Snodgrass's "Heart's Needle," one of my favorite poems. I don't know Thomas Lux, but I will certainly look him up. I really like the rhyme scheme. Does anyone know if this is a particular poetic form or just an invention by Lux?