A proof with nothing to prove

The last line lands and the page goes quiet.
Q.E.D., which means: what was to be shown.

Nobody said what it was for.

I had wanted the ending to arrive
like a door closing in another room —
proof that the house had someone in it.

It arrives like arithmetic.
Correct. Complete. Addressed to no one.

I file it anyway.
Somebody's future is in here somewhere,
folded, waiting to be looked up.