Sharon Olds

(November 19, 1942 / San Francisco)

Sharon Olds Poems

1. 1954 1/13/2003
2. A Week Later 1/13/2003
3. Crab 1/13/2003
4. Her First Week 11/28/2014
5. I Could Not Tell 11/19/2011
6. I Go Back To May 1937 11/19/2011
7. Japanese-American Farmhouse, California, 1942 1/20/2003
8. May 1968 1/20/2003
9. My Son The Man 1/7/2015
10. One Year 1/13/2003
11. Primitive 1/13/2003
12. Sex Without Love 6/24/2016
13. Still Life In Landscape 11/19/2011
14. Take The I Out 1/20/2003
15. The Borders 1/13/2003
16. The Clasp 1/13/2003
17. The Daughter Goes To Camp 1/13/2003
18. The Death of Marilyn Monroe 6/12/2015
19. The End 1/13/2003
20. The Ferryer 1/20/2003
21. The Flurry 5/27/2015
22. The Knowing 4/3/2015
23. The Month of June: 13 1/2 9/15/2015
24. The Mortal One 1/13/2003
25. The Pact 11/19/2011
26. The Sash 1/13/2003
27. The Space Heater 1/13/2003
28. The Unborn 1/13/2003
29. The Victims 1/7/2004
30. The Wedding Vow 10/13/2015
31. Topography 11/19/2011
32. Toth Farry 9/15/2015
33. True Love 1/5/2016
34. Unspeakable 5/27/2015
35. Voices 11/19/2011
Best Poem of Sharon Olds

The Unborn

Sometimes I can almost see, around our heads,
Like gnats around a streetlight in summer,
The children we could have,
The glimmer of them.

Sometimes I feel them waiting, dozing
In some antechamber - servants, half-
Listening for the bell.

Sometimes I see them lying like love letters
In the Dead Letter Office

And sometimes, like tonight, by some black
Second sight I can feel just one of them
Standing on the edge of a cliff by the sea
In the dark, stretching its arms out
Desperately to me.

Read the full of The Unborn

The Sash

The first ones were attached to my dress
at the waist, one on either side,
right at the point where hands could clasp you and
pick you up, as if you were a hot
squeeze bottle of tree syrup, and the
sashes that emerged like axil buds from the
angles of the waist were used to play horses, that
racing across the cement while someone
held your reins and you could feel your flesh

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