The pulsar of her heart
Kept time awhile with one
That shone as if through fog—
A slightly fainter sun,

Though not by much: both burned
Obscurely, light-years off,
As, with a fascination
That was not yet love,

We watched their beacons mapped
Against black depths beyond.
Now conjured, now concealed
Under the sweeping wand

That fixed their magnitudes
And axes on a chart,
How similar they seemed—
Two worlds, inches apart,

Blinking in synchronous
Morse code. We didn’t guess
One signal would dissolve
In static nothingness,

Eluding our cupped hands,
A phosphorescent spark
Or momentary wish
Returned to formless dark.

What will this nameless face
Blurred in her own, this other,
Seem to her? Will she dream it
Sister or shadow brother,

Rival or counterpart,
Half-heard, fugitive rhyme,
Child in a frozen wood
Lost on the way to time?