What light there was

What light there was
reflected in from an
unseen surrounding city
to the clouds and back down
into a wide skylight above.

We kept each other warm
in a cool cedar scented room
a big bed protecting us
as we whispered our need
in words outside vocabulary.

I was drunk on you, then
knew halves of magical stories
that we related to each other
in diffuse light and shadow;
I'd never known them before
have nearly forgotten them since.

But there was the quiet sound
of your calm voice near
warming the cotton womb
that we together turned
into a world for a moment
in space and time
sharing the weaving
of a web of our own light
with painstaking ease
crafting a new thing
outside of our previous selves.

A dim touch of love
- somewhere, it was -
but we're well past the time
where axons and acetylcholine
could retain that nervy instant
the trace of touch
any longer in their
brief chemical memory
and I rely now instead
on these spidery words
scuttles caught in
a blue lined web
on white bond paper.