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)
More Poetry from Howard Nemerov:
Howard Nemerov Poems based on Topics: Life, Youth, Anger- The View From An Attic Window (Howard Nemerov Poems)
- Money (Howard Nemerov Poems)
- The host, he says that all is well (Howard Nemerov Poems)
- The Author To His Body On Their Fifteenth Birthday, 29 ii 80 (Howard Nemerov Poems)
- The Brief Journey West (Howard Nemerov Poems)
- The Icehouse In Summer (Howard Nemerov Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Life Poems, Youth Poems, Anger PoemsBased on Keywords: woolen, slovenly, sulks