Our Fate, Like a Star

The polls are open. John Ashbery knows how it ends

On the holy days, you read a poem. Here’s a bit from John Ashbery’s “The One Thing That Can Save America.” Just the poem’s ending, because today, too, is an ending. There’s no One Thing coming, and never will be. For Ashbery, there is only the eternal mystery of “whether we shall be known.” With love and hope, from our quiet small house to yours— d

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It is the lumps and trials
That tell us whether we shall be known
And whether our fate can be exemplary, like a star.
All the rest is waiting
For a letter that never arrives,
Day after day, the exasperation
Until finally you have ripped it open not knowing what it is,
The two envelope halves lying on a plate.
The message was wise, and seemingly
Dictated a long time ago.
Its truth is timeless, but its time has still
Not arrived, telling of danger, and the mostly limited
Steps that can be taken against danger
Now and in the future, in cool yards,
In quiet small houses in the country,
Our country, in fenced areas, in cool shady streets.

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