Sharon Olds

(November 19, 1942 / San Francisco)

Poems of Sharon Olds

21. The Unborn 1/13/2003
22. The Victims 1/7/2004
23. Topography 11/19/2011
24. Voices 11/19/2011

Crab

When I eat crab, slide the rosy
rubbery claw across my tongue
I think of my mother. She'd drive down
to the edge of the Bay, tiny woman in a
huge car, she'd ask the crab-man to
crack it for her. She'd stand and wait as the
pliers broke those chalky homes, wild-
red and knobby, those cartilage wrists, the
thin orange roof of the back.

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