This is by Revathy Gopal who was an Indian poet who died of cancer in 2007.
Shapes
Mirror marks on wet glass
finger-writing on steam,
hieroglyphs drawn by
the one who lives behind
the mirror, the messages for me,
if I could only decipher them.
Communion of the lonely.
And when I spill milk I look
to see if the pattern spells anything,
meanings from a past or the future,
arrows shot through time
that will explain everything
I've missed.