☀ Today's Poem: "About Love" Matthew Dickman

You need to do
something for yourself

is what she used to
say to me

while I stood washing
the dishes or folding

the children's pile
of warm clothes.

Now I believe that
she was talking

to herself like a knight
staring off over

the hay roofs of
some unimportant village

into the doors of a
dark and unknown

castle, saying I'm meant
for more than this.

I don't understand
why bravery

so often comes with
cruelty. I would be happy

staring at my kids
all day. I would be happy

watching snow fall
onto the green glass

of a greenhouse
until the glass broke

and the tomatoes inside
froze hard as baseballs.

My mother tells a story
about bringing her

sons to the mall when
we were eight

and says I saw how
people looked at you

and your brother, you
were such pretty

children I was worried
something would

happen to you. I only
remember her looking

at us, saying I could have
looked at you all day.

The last time I talked
to my father

was the night of
my older brother's

cremation. He was sitting
on a couch staring

into an empty fireplace.
I hadn't seen him

for years but just
then I wanted to sit next

to him like you would
a child you found

lost in the mall,
and say it's ok, let's

find your parents, they
must be.here somewhere.

I think I said, Allen,
I'm sorry Darin is gone.

And he made a sound
like a child might make

when reaching up for
a mother's hand

only to realize that it's not their
mother. He sighed

and said it's so strange
not having a son anymore.

And my father was right,
his son was dead

and gone and that
was the beginning and

the end of any story
I might ever tell

about love. Yesterday,
going to the store

to buy nighttime diapers
for Owen, I found myself

so happy that everyone
had to wear masks.

That I didn't have to
look at anyone's face.

That I didn't have to
look at mine. I watched

as boxes of different
kinds of cereal glided

by, watched cans
of vegetables become

cans of fruit. The music
playing in my head

was so beautiful
it was like the sound

my children's mother
made when she used to

walk through our house
in her socks.