2 min read
Слушать(AI)The Vacuum
The house is so quiet now The vacuum cleaner sulks in the corner closet,
Its bag 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 stair.
I know now how life is cheap as dirt,
And still the hungry, angry heart Hangs on and howls, biting at air.
Howard Nemerov was born on February 29th, 1920 in New York.
He died of cancer at his home in University City,
Missouri on July 5th 1991.
Howard Nemerov
Howard Nemerov (February 29, 1920 – July 5, 1991) was an American poet. He was twice Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congre
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
The host he says that all is well
He didn't want to do it with skill, He'd had enough of skill If he never Another villanelle, it would be too soon;
The Murder Of William Remington
It is true, that even in the best-run state Such things will happen; it is true, What’s done is done The law, whereby we hate Our hatred, sees no fire in the flue But by the smoke, and not for thought alone It punishes, but for the thing...
The Dependencies
This morning, between two branches of a Beside the door, epeira once Has spun and signed his tapestry and trap I test his early-warning system
The Brief Journey West
By the dry road the fathers cough and spit, This is their room They are the ones who hung That bloody sun upon the southern wall And crushed the armored beetle to the floor The father’s skin is seamed and dry, the map Of that wild r...