Author: Sharon Olds

She was four, he was one, it was raining, we had colds, We had been in the apartment two weeks […]

How do they do it, the ones who make love Without love? Beautiful as dancers, Gliding over each other like […]

Three months after he lies dead, that Long yellow narrow body, Not like Christ but like one of his saints, […]

The first ones were attached to my dress At the waist, one on either side, Right at the point where […]

On the then-below-zero day, it was on, Near the patients’ chair, the old heater Kept by the analyst’s couch, at […]

A week later, I said to a friend: I don’t Think I could ever write about it. Maybe in a […]

We played dolls in that house where Father staggered with the Thanksgiving knife, where Mother wept at noon into her […]

Sometimes I can almost see, around our heads, Like gnats around a streetlight in summer, The children we could have, […]

I pull the bed slowly open, I Open the lips of the bed, get The stack of fresh underpants Out […]

When I eat crab, slide the rosy Rubbery claw across my tongue I think of my mother. She’d drive down […]