Old Women

Peretz Markish

1926

I

Aged woolen women, like old siddurim—moldy, mossy
Bound in coarse canvas;
Pointless bellies dangling after them like empty sacks,
Dried-out breasts, like horseradish roots, swaying back and forth.
“God willing, till a hundred”—lost in thought over beds, lonely and gray
Constantly counting days and the wash of their long dead husbands rocked to…
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