“How Are You?”

She’s
as different from –
and yet related to –

herself
as any bird
is

to and from
a dinosaur:
she’s a thrush’s

minor thirds –
rushing into dissonances
vaguely recollected –

heard before:
a mournful harmony
becoming funny –

charming –
and alarming.
Hard to say

just how
she is:
strange task

to try.
People ask.
She’s not sure why.






.