Mary says she’ll take both
as the sales lady fusses
over the hem, then hovers

like a gravestone
the whole walk back
to the dressing room.

Halfway into her old dress
the film gets wavy
the way old TV shows
begin a flashback or a dream.

Here it is a sign that is also a door—

a signal to let us know
the world has changed.

Mary’s still in the dress shop,
only this time invisible.

The stone-faced sales lady
will not even look at her,

nor the gray-haired women
pecking at the dress racks.

Mary watches their mouths move
but cannot hear what they are saying.

Out on the street, she’s still
stuck on mute.

Construction workers silently
jackhammer the sidewalk.
A man in black suit walks past her
without even a sweaty glance.

Mary tries to scream,
but her body is trapped
behind glass.

Only after stumbling into a park,
does the switch flip:

Mary hears the bird chirp overhead,
the swell of midday traffic returns,
men on the street stop and stare.

No longer forced
to move through the world
as if all her wires had been cut—

one purgatory traded for another.

---