Primitive by Sharon Olds
| filed under: poem, poets, Sharon Olds, poetry, poet, poems
The only thing that separates us Americans in 2019 from men 50,000 years ago is the hubris of modernity. We are all primitive and Sharon Old gets it. And it's beautiful and meaningful, both.
Poet Sharon Olds
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.