How Are You?                                                        

by Dinah Kudatsky  2024

                                                             

How are YOU?

Oh, such an awful question – a serrated spoon scooping my insides!

My personal inventory rising within me against my will,

What to reveal without repelling you?

I could say: “Pretty good, all things considered”

I could say: “I’m infinitely better, yet far from good”

Both covering everything, saying nothing

I envy animals who don’t answer questions,

speaking in yips or squeals, slow blinks, or head butts

They never lie like I do.

I’ll tell you something true, even normal,

like being at Narragansett with friends,

strong sun, salty breeze, cartoon clouds –

a stellar day, like someone had paid off the weather guy

but later, trying to get up from the sand, my knees

screamed at me; I thought I’d need a crane to lift me

remembering days when I could take stairs by twos,

do judo somersaults, or throw my legs over my head – for fun

Hoping for more than a moment of joy

hearing the 34 counts of guilty! Guilty! GUILTY! for the Monster-Baby

but Storm-Trumpers, eager to flaunt their stupidity,

oppositional defiant thugs, prepare

to take George Washington into the alley for a beat-down

Neither Rachel Maddow nor I can save America

So – I’m on my mat, doing Yoga Nidra,

arcs of long breath-in, long breath-out,

a non-rational moment of letting go

then mid-breath, kidnapped by Obsession,

her twin brother Compulsion waiting in the wings

coulda-woulda-shoulda beat-boxing on my temples

Stupid and important things can dance together

like, my double chin now has its own double chin, but then

I think of the trees I planted in Israel as a child

feeling virtuous. Now my tribe starves their tribe

         cousins forgetting our common ancestry, and

the shared ancient bonds of hummus, olive groves, and hijaz

Remembering when I wouldn’t eat tuna or buy grapes

to not participate in the suffering of others, but could I

still cause harm in the world?

Another beautiful day. the woman

who panhandles on the median strip

deep brown and leathery, standing in the sun

smiles at me because I gave her money once or twice

a smile of both hope and desperation. I’m contrite

too cynical to be a sure thing

knowing a buck won’t even buy her a coffee

wondering where she’ll sleep tonight

her toothless smile staying with me

Lovely morning, but already inching to 95°

making me dull-witted and homicidal

climate crisis, of course – the lilacs long gone –

It’s May, and we’re in the doldrums

so don’t ask me how I am until October.

I know that I’m going to die alone, disappeared. lost to history

slipping silently under water and flushed away

I forgot to have children until it was too late, then my body said no

I found other people’s children, on loan, until they grew up and moved away

Friends, lost to distance, death, or meaningless arguments

No five-year plans or operating instructions, just fantasies I’d be

discovered for something, conferring worthiness on me

! I fell through the holes in my resumé !

     – my failures so deep they are in themselves impressive!

Warning: my supply of sequins is insufficient to cover

     the rips in my fabric. I promise to disappoint you

Please! – no questions shaped like serrated spoons

Let’s sit close, thigh to thigh. Let’s just be two beasts

perched on an outcrop, overlooking a panoramic valley

long breath in, long breath out. late day going to deep cobalt

acceptable to the gods, just as we are.

Dinah Kudatsky is a resident of Amherst