The Wolf and the Lamb
On the narrow passage of childhood.
He wiggles his tooth with a finger and thumb. Blood oozes from the base of the incisor, crimson on ivory.
“Not long now,” I say.
It is the first of his baby teeth to loosen. We give him, my son, a box and tell him to place it under his pillow when it falls free, tell him the tooth fairy will come for it.
“What will she bring?”
“It’s a surprise.”
