(November 19, 1942 / San Francisco)

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Primitive

I have heard about the civilized,
the marriages run on talk, elegant and honest, rational. But you and I are
savages. You come in with a bag,
hold it out to me in silence.
I know Moo Shu Pork when I smell it
and understand the message: I have
pleased you greatly last night. We sit
quietly, side by side, to eat,
the long pancakes dangling and spilling,
fragrant sauce dripping out,
and glance at each other askance, wordless,
the corners of our eyes clear as spear points
laid along the sill to show
a friend sits with a friend here.


Anonymous submission.

Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003


Read poems about / on: friend, silence, night, running

Comments about this poem (Primitive by Sharon Olds )

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  • Saadat Tahir (5/31/2009 3:21:00 AM)

    very nice

    enjoyed it
    cheers

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