The News c/p

The News

Maeve has forgotten to ask

could she change.

She turns not to see the thresholds and warning charts.

It's cold in here.

When she shivers the back-slit pale gown floats.

To please a friend in school once

Maeve had bought pastel-flowered fabric

and sewed it too

to be twins. She always wanted to ask if

wearing it

did she too feel disappeared

but it was acoustic so she couldn't.

She inhales and sits up straight.

She glares at the kind blue fragile

soundproof walls.

What if I shout at what I hear

and gesticulate

and storm about,

will mauve-pink showers stifle me?

A light glitters.

Maeve looks up left.

That'll stop those flashes again.

But no.

Leaves flicker from tree pinnacles

far off at the end of the car park

and the flashes

don't

stop.

Out there, outside control,

leaves flicker and the wind blows.

Those leaves rustle

she says, and sways,

and lets them raise their gathering boom.

Maeve turns smiling

toward the opening door.

Jackie