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
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
What if I shout at what I hear
and storm about,
will mauve-pink showers stifle me?
A light glitters.
Maeve looks up left.
That'll stop those flashes again.
Leaves flicker from tree pinnacles
far off at the end of the car park
and the flashes
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.