The Unborn by Sharon Olds

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.

by Sharon Olds

Other poems by 'Sharon Olds'

Sex Without Love

The End

The Borders

One Year

A Week Later

Topography

1954

The Daughter Goes To Camp

The Pact

The Mortal One

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