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
Sharon Olds, we return to again and again, here at The Vampire’s Wife, surely one of our most poignant of poets, vibrant and sparkling in all she does. Please read her, she is so helpful, in so many ways. She exists beyond the expected reach of poetry into something completely different, as she guides us beyond ourselves. Her poems are woven into the very cloth of our creations here at The Vampire’s Wife!
And the picture of the boy above is a rarely seen Edmund Munch sketch of Andreas Shwarz in 1906, found at the Munch Museum in Oslo. Munch is so wonderfully raw and bold. He is, indeed, the master of the haunted lady in the beautiful dress; a constant source of ideas for us here at The Vampire’s Wife.
Much love to all,