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Sharon Olds - The Clasp

She was four, he was one, it was raining, we had colds,
we had been in the apartment two weeks straight,
I grabbed her to keep her from shoving him over on his
face, again, and when I had her wrist
in my grasp I compressed it, fiercely, for a couple
of seconds, to make an impression on her,
to hurt her, our beloved firstborn, I even almost
savored the stinging sensation of the squeezing,
the expression, into her, of my anger,
"Never, never, again," the righteous
chant accompanying the clasp. It happened very
fast-grab, crush, crush,
crush, release-and at the first extra
force, she swung her head, as if checking
who this was, and looked at me,
and saw me-yes, this was her mom,
her mom was doing this. Her dark,
deeply open eyes took me
in, she knew me, in the shock of the moment
she learned me. This was her mother, one of the
two whom she most loved, the two
who loved her most, near the source of love 
was this.

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Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 4320 times | Comments and analysis of The Clasp by Sharon Olds Comments (1)

The Clasp - Comments and Information

Poet: Sharon Olds
Poem: The Clasp

Comment 1 of 1, added on May 10th, 2012 at 12:46 PM.
great

grat

Sade Wilson from United States

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