Binary Oppositions

She sits
wide awake,
a synergy
of blood and breath

behind incurved glass,
pale persistent walls,
bustling bureaucrats –

a phone rings
from another room      she                    cannot          get
to –

holding on, letting go
of signs, distant, opaque,
stars transmuted
from the darkest matter.

The reflection blurs into silica
and ash, but she’ll find it
again, that misplaced sense of self –

in the trick of light on snow
or in a lightning flash,

or maybe on an airless day
between the binary oppositions,
traces and clicks.