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Lifted the lid as I do
every Friday to drop in
the week’s sack
for the truck’s prehistoric jaws
to devour and disappear.
There it was
at the empty bottom,
lifeless, lying on its side
like a deflated football.
Not like looking down
a cavernous wishing well—more like
a jack-in-the-box ambush.
I reeled,
my labyrinthine mind scurrying
for an answer:
it tumbled in while
sniffing for scraps
and couldn’t climb back out.
Small furry survivor
of the T-Rex-killing asteroid,
done in by a dumb
plastic bin
from Home Hardware; thump.
I imagined the frantic,
futile claw-scratch scratching
against the bin’s
smooth cylindrical walls.
Had to smirk.
Next thought:
where there’s one,
there are many.
I peered through the fence
at my neighbour’s yard,
rows of containers
behind his shiny,
brand-new black Porsche.
It wasn’t the first time
I’d surveyed his trash
like a detective scrounging
for clues of ill-gotten gains.
While I stuck conscientiously
to a one-bag-a-week quota,
he always had two,
sometimes even three and four—evidence
he was an uncaring waster,
always a bit of a jerk, really.
And a menace.
My empty bin trapped the rat,
but it was my neighbour
who invited it
with his extravagant
consumption.
That’s when I heard
the inevitable truck’s roar,
rusty brakes screaming.
Darkness crossed
my sunny soul
like an omen eclipse.
We’re all doomed.
I read all the poems that you recently posted yesterday, but didn't have time to comment on them until today. Of all the poems, this one stayed with me the most. The image of the dead rat in the garbage can is riveting and hard to shake lose from one's memory. This poem is great if only just for the vivid and memorable descriptions, but there's a class consciousness message that is also quite profound and disturbing ... all the conspicuous consumers and crass materialists out there -- they live close by! -- that don't seem to give a whit about the environment or the future or anything or anyone else for that matter. What a great gross image that sums up all of what's disgusting about that selfish and self-serving lifestyle ... a rat in a garbage can!
ReplyDeleteAs you know I appreciate your efforts and insights. This one is based on experience. It happened a while ago, but recently I’ve seen suspicious tracks in the snow along side my house. Yes, rats can live in the snow. A few weeks ago a big rat crossed the street in front of my car, like a squirrel. So this poem was triggered by all those experiences. It feels like an invasion. And I live in an upscale neighbourhood. Nowhere is safe. And then of course thinking of the metaphoric rat that gnaws away at all of us, selfishness, jealousy, envy, that leads to irresponsibility and blame.
DeleteSuddenly it occurs to me that Jeffrey Epstein has something to do with this poem too.
DeleteMaybe Trump as well? : )
ReplyDelete