we say to each other, so automatically
when someone asks how we are—

yet if I look into your eyes, even onscreen,
I see exhaustion, despair, frustration,

honest anger, sorrow about this thing that
never should have happened but did,

this life-altering devastation that’s left
you forever changed and, on many days,

without hope. We hide in plain sight to
shield blows real or imagined or from

predators—like the camouflaged giraffe
standing tall on the wooded savannah, or

the great gray owl that blends into the fabric
of a tree. Fine. Admirable. Excellent.

But none of you hides when I ask. One of you
brightens as you talk about the ex-son-in-law

who comes to help, and one of you is excited
to collect your poems into a book, and

another of you remembers your late
husband’s birthday today.

I resolve to not answer “fine”
when someone asks, to say instead,

I’m purple today, thank you very much.
I’m fierce. I’m balmy. I’m sun-sational.