One Way

                     The stripes from the blinds
climb the wall with indifference,
caring little what hour they signify,
how for a single person
alone in a sterile room
they measure all that there is
of time.
            Daily they work their way
up, up, up
from mid-floor to trim
before surrendering
to the limits of the earth,
neither wave nor particle muscling through
the mass of world.
                             As she rocks herself
below their dwindling path,
faded green scrub-covered knees
pulled up to chin, desiccated arms
wrapped around, distant eyes staring
up, up, up
to where the light ends,
                                    she waits to follow,
        even as she fades.