ZITHERGLOW
I held her
and listened to zither music.
Her mother coughed,
above us.
In the small glow
of kitchen
there seemed to be
more space.
There seemed to be enough
so that the two of us
could extend out through it forever,
making it into time.
It was just sound
and almost orange bulb light
and her.
And time, out around us,
waiting to be filled
as we chose.
So I held her
and kissed her
and imagined a darker room.