Connor and Jack discuss the Sharon Olds poem "Armor" about an experience she had with her son. Connor mentions the discussion Jo and Amy have about art and power in "Little Women" and Olds' penchant for four beat lines and heavy enjambment. Jack brings up flatworms and both marvel at the way Olds goes so many places from an everyday experience. Armor By: Sharon Olds Just about at the triple-barreled pistol I can’t go on. I sink down as if shot, beside the ball of its butt loaded with mother-of-pearl. My son leaves me on the bench, and goes on. Hand on hip, he gazes at a suit of armor, blue eyes running over the silver, looking for a slit. He shakes his head, hair greenish as the gold velvet cod-shirt hanging before him in volutes at the metal groin. Next, I see him facing a case of shields, fingering the sweater over his heart, and then for a long time I don’t see him, as a mother will lose her son in war. I sit and think about men. Finally Gabriel comes back, sated, so fattened with gore his eyelids bulge. We exit under the huge tumescent jousting irons, their pennants a faded rose, like the mist before his eyes. He slips his hand lightly in mine, and says Not one of those suits is really safe. But when we get to the wide museum steps railed with gold like the descent from heaven, he can’t resist, and before my eyes, down the stairs, over and over, clutching his delicate unprotected chest, Gabriel dies, and dies. Find us on Facebook at: facebook.com/closetalking  Find us on Twitter at: twitter.com/closetalking  Find us on Instagram: @closetalkingpoetry You can always send us an e-mail with thoughts on this or any of our previous podcasts, as well as suggestions for future shows, at [email protected].

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