Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

William Matthews' poem "The Waste Carpet" presents a sprawling, apocalyptic vision of environmental degradation and societal decline. With a keen eye for detail and a dark sense of irony, Matthews weaves together imagery of waste and destruction, evoking a world in which human negligence and consumption have led to a grotesque unraveling of nature and civilization.

The poem begins with a stark observation about the mundane yet monumental task of a housewife: "No day is right for the apocalypse, if you ask a housewife in Talking Rock, Georgia, or maybe Hop River, Connecticut." This opening line immediately sets a tone of irony, juxtaposing the ordinary concerns of everyday life with the impending doom of an ecological catastrophe. The housewife, opening a plastic bag, unwittingly unleashes a "grotesque parody of the primeval muck." This image underscores the pervasive impact of human waste, likening it to a primordial ooze that cannot be contained.

Matthews describes the contents of the bag with a mix of horror and dark humor: "Soap in unsoftened water, sewage, asbestos coiled like vermicelli, Masonite shavings, a liquefied lifetime subscription to The New York Times delivered all at once." The list of waste items becomes increasingly surreal and disturbing, highlighting the absurdity and excess of modern consumerism. The "empty body stockings, limp, forlorn, like collapsed lungs" add a haunting, almost macabre touch, suggesting the remnants of a disposable culture.

As the waste spreads, Matthews comments on its inevitability and direction: "At first she thought she had won something. Now it slithers through the house, out windows, down the street, spreading everywhere but heading, mostly, west." The waste, devoid of purpose or direction, merely follows the path of least resistance, embodying a sense of aimless destruction. The comparison to "the last blanket" evokes a sense of finality and loss, as the waste covers and obliterates everything in its path.

The poem transitions to a broader geographical scope, describing abandoned cars outside Ravenswood, West Virginia: "The ore it took to make the iron it took to make the steel it took to make the cars, that ore would remember the glaciers if it could." This reflection on the long history of natural resources contrasts sharply with their current state of decay. The imagery of "abandoned cars shine in the sun like beetlebacks" and "a choir of silenced Chevrolets" paints a bleak picture of industrial decline and obsolescence.

Matthews' detailed description of the colors of rusting cars—"rust, a faded purple like the dusty skin of a Concord grape, flaking moss-green paint with primer peeking blandly through"—serves as a metaphor for the fading vibrancy of civilization. The once-proud vehicles, now reduced to mere remnants, symbolize the deterioration of human achievements and the inexorable passage of time.

The poem shifts to Cincinnati, the speaker's beloved birthplace, now reduced to "another whorl of dirt." The imagery of "the lawn that drained toward Ricwood Ave. like a small valley of uncles" and "the sultry river musk that slid like a compromising note through my bedroom window" evokes a sense of nostalgia and personal loss. The city's transformation into a "seething" mass of waste reflects the broader theme of environmental and cultural decay.

Matthews continues with a poignant reflection on rural landscapes: "Up north near Lebanon and Troy and Rosewood, the corn I skulked in as a boy lays back its ears like a shamed dog." This personification of nature, reacting to the encroaching waste, underscores the profound impact of human activity on the environment. The imagery of the "Holstein pivots his massive head toward where the barn stood; the spreading stain he sees is his new owner" further emphasizes the intrusion and domination of waste over natural spaces.

The poem's climax addresses the collective hope and fear of ecological disaster: "What we imagined was the fire-storm, or, failing that, the glacier. Or we hoped we’d get off easy, losing only California." The imagined scenarios of destruction reveal a deep-seated anxiety about the future, while the resignation to losing California highlights the perceived inevitability of environmental catastrophe.

In a final, elegiac turn, Matthews reflects on the loss of California and the broader implications for humanity: "O California, here we come, quoting Ecclesiastes, ruinous with self-knowledge." The invocation of Ecclesiastes, a biblical book known for its themes of vanity and futility, adds a philosophical dimension to the poem's meditation on human folly and the consequences of our actions.

"The Waste Carpet" concludes with a sobering acknowledgment of the irreversible damage: "Now we are about to lose our voices we remember that tomorrow is our echo. O the old songs, the good days: bad faith and civil disobedience, sloppy scholarship and tooth decay." This final lament for a lost past, coupled with the realization that "our very lives, all jumbled now and far too big in aggregate to understand or mourn," encapsulates the poem's themes of loss, regret, and the overwhelming scale of the environmental crisis.

Through its rich imagery, dark humor, and poignant reflections, "The Waste Carpet" offers a powerful critique of modern society's wastefulness and its devastating impact on the natural world. Matthews' ability to blend personal and universal themes creates a compelling narrative that challenges readers to confront the consequences of their actions and the fragile state of our environment.

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