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The house is so quiet now The vacuum cleaner sulks in the corner closet, Its bag is limp as a stopped lung, its mouth Grinning into the floor, maybe at my Slovenly life, my dog-dead youth. I've lived this way long enough, But when my old woman died her soul Went into that vacuum cleaner, and I can't bear To see the bag swell like a belly, eating the dust And the woolen mice, and begin to howl Because there is old filth everywhere She used to crawl, in the corner and under the chair. I know how life is cheap as dirt, And still the hungry,`angry heart Hangs on and howls, biting the air. -- Howard Nemerov (1960) |
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The Vacuum |
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ARTICLE Howard Nemerov, Wikipedia |
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READING / LITERATURE LITERATURE ON LINE |