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Howard Nemerov - The Vacuum
Work rating: Low

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.
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