Читать книгу Kindest Regards - Ted Kooser - Страница 20

Carrie

“There’s never an end to dust

and dusting,” my aunt would say

as her rag, like a thunderhead,

scudded across the yellow oak

of her little house. There she lived

seventy years with a ball

of compulsion closed in her fist,

and an elbow that creaked and popped

like a branch in a storm. Now dust

is her hands and dust her heart.

There’s never an end to it.