New Concerns

American Poetry Review, The, Nov/Dec 2004 by Ashbery, John

Sulfurous, Mrs. Hanratty's apron floats

above the sunset, auguring extreme cold.

The guests'advantage doesn't undermine

their green goalie days.

Wind-driven pea-shoots strew the skies.

All is tremor, modesty, a waiting to be told.

Several speakers impugn at once

the veracity of a late brook in August,

and all it would have meant on the same day

in another year. By now, runners will have reached

the northern border, plunged fingertips

in the flame. And, yes,

this is one of those times.