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Louise Gluck - Love Poem

There is always something to be made of pain.
Your mother knits.
She turns out scarves in every shade of red.
They were for Christmas, and they kept you warm
while she married over and over, taking you
along. How could it work,
when all those years she stored her widowed heart
as though the dead come back.
No wonder you are the way you are,
afraid of blood, your women
like one brick wall after another. 

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Added: Apr 12 2005 | Viewed: 7324 times | Comments and analysis of Love Poem by Louise Gluck Comments (2)

Love Poem - Comments and Information

Poet: Louise Gluck
Poem: Love Poem
Poem of the Day: Aug 17 2017

Comment 2 of 2, added on April 3rd, 2006 at 9:17 PM.

I feel as if I know the man this poem was written about, and his mother; red scarves and brick walls make good use of pain but don't compensate for a "widowed heart" in cold storage

Brenda from Canada
Comment 1 of 2, added on June 29th, 2005 at 9:23 AM.

this poem is really good

crystal from United States

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