He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven
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.
Living in the Bodyby Joyce SutphenBody is something you need in order to stayon this planet and you only get one.And no matter which one you get, it will notbe satisfactory. It will not be beautifulenough, it will not be fast enough, it willnot keep on for days at a time, but willpull you down into a sleepy swamp anddemand apples and coffee and chocolate cake.Body is a thing you have to carryfrom one day into the next. Always thesame eyebrows over the same eyes in the sameskin when you look in the mirror, and thesame creaky knee when you get up from thefloor and the same wrist under the watchband.The changes you can make are small andcostly—better to leave it as it is.Body is a thing that you have to leaveeventually. You know that because you haveseen others do it, others who were once like you,living inside their pile of bones andflesh, smiling at you, loving you,leaning in the doorway, talking to youfor hours and then one day theyare gone. No forwarding address.