The Roof Splits Open

Untitled; named after its first line. Two drafts of one poem, a year apart — the revision is an erosion.

屋頂裂開

稿一 · 二〇二五年二月六日

一

屋頂裂開。裂開裏有灰。灰裏沒有風。風走了。走不了。門口濕了。濕得像腳尖在笑。笑聲從牆縫滑出。縫又合上。影子落下，落不下。落下的影子在腳尖輕輕搖晃。搖晃得像呼吸，不是呼吸。桌子抽屜裏增生手指。手指沒手。沒手的甲片數數，數不完。窗玻璃裂成聲。聲碎了，碎到半空。半空裏漂浮着記憶。記憶停住，停住像石頭沒落下。燈亮又滅。滅又亮。反覆。亮的地方看見腳步，但腳步沒腳。沒腳的腳步帶來鏽。鏽裏漫出眼睛。眼睛踩着屋頂裂縫裏的灰，灰又散開，散開得像你不在。

二

窗欞散架。散架裏有光。光裏沒有影。影丟了，丟不遠。門檻斜了。斜得像話説到一半。半句話卡在木紋裏。木紋又生長。灰塵起身，起不來。起不來的灰塵在木紋裏緩緩旋轉。旋轉得像指針，不是指針。牆皮剝落處分泌聲音。聲音沒嘴。沒嘴的聲音試着喊，喊不出。鏡框裂成路。路斷了，斷在眉間。眉間泡着凝視。凝視停住，停住像弦沒顫。燭淚流下，流到半截。熄滅。流不動的地方看見手勢，但手勢沒手。沒手的手勢比劃。比劃裏濺出時辰。時辰盯着窗欞散架裏的光，光又合攏，合攏得像我忘了問—— 問什麼

Draft one · 6 February 2025

The roof splits open. Inside the split there is ash. Inside the ash there is no wind. The wind has gone. Cannot go. The doorway is wet. So wet it is like toes laughing. Laughter slips out through a crack in the wall. The crack closes again. A shadow falls, cannot fall. The fallen shadow sways softly at the toes. Sways like breathing, not breathing. Fingers proliferate inside the desk drawer. The fingers have no hand. Handless nails count, can’t finish counting. The window glass cracks into sound. The sound shatters, shatters into mid-air. Memory floats there in mid-air. Memory stops, stops like a stone that has not fallen. The lamp lights then goes out. Goes out then lights. Repeats. In the lit place, see footsteps, but the footsteps have no feet. Footless footsteps bring rust. Eyes well out of the rust. The eyes tread the ash in the roof’s split, and the ash scatters again, scatters as if you are not here.

The window lattice comes apart. Inside the coming-apart there is light. Inside the light there is no shadow. The shadow is lost, not far. The threshold tilts. Tilts like a sentence stopped halfway. Half a sentence catches in the grain. The grain grows again. Dust rises, cannot get up. Dust that cannot get up turns slowly inside the grain. Turns like a pointer, not a pointer. Where plaster peels from the wall, sound is secreted. The sound has no mouth. Mouthless sound tries to shout, cannot get it out. The mirror frame cracks into a road. The road breaks, breaks between the brows. A gaze soaks there between the brows. The gaze stops, stops like a string that did not tremble. Candle tears run down, stop halfway. Go out. Where they cannot run, see a gesture, but the gesture has no hand. The handless gesture makes motions. Hours splash out of the motions. The hours stare at the light inside the broken lattice, and the light closes again, closes as if I forgot to ask— ask what

稿二 · 二〇二六年二月十三日

一

屋頂裂開。裂開裏灰。灰裏沒風。風走了。走不了。門口濕了。濕得笑。笑縫裏滑。合上。影子落，不落。在腳尖晃。呼吸，不是呼吸。抽屜增生手指。沒手。甲片數數，數數數。玻璃裂成聲。聲碎。半空。漂浮記憶。停住，石頭沒落。燈亮。滅。反覆。亮的地方腳步。沒腳。帶來鏽。鏽裏漫出眼。踩裂縫，散開，你不在。

二

窗欞散架。裏頭光。沒有影。丟了，不遠。門檻斜了。半句話卡在木紋裏。又生長。身，起不來。木紋裏旋轉。指針，不是指針。牆皮分泌。聲音沒嘴。喊出半聲，嚥回去。喉嚨找。鏡框裂成路。斷在眉間。泡着凝視。停住，水沒流。燭淚流下。半截。熄滅。看見手勢。沒手。比劃。濺出時辰。盯着散架，光合攏，我忘了問—— 問什麼

Draft two · 13 February 2026

The roof splits open. Inside the split, ash. Inside the ash, no wind. Wind gone. Cannot go. The doorway is wet. Wet enough to laugh. Laughter slips in the crack. Closes. Shadow falls, does not fall. Sways at the toes. Breathing, not breathing. The drawer proliferates fingers. No hands. Nails count, count count count. Glass cracks into sound. Sound shatters. Mid-air. Memory floating. Stops, stone not fallen. Lamp on. Out. Repeats. In the lit place, footsteps. No feet. Bring rust. Eyes well out of rust. Tread the split, scatter, you are not here.

The window lattice comes apart. Light inside. No shadow. Lost, not far. The threshold tilts. Half a sentence catches in the grain. Grows again. Body, cannot get up. Turning inside the grain. Pointer, not pointer. The wall skin secretes. Sound has no mouth. Half a cry comes out, is swallowed back. The throat searches. The mirror frame cracks into a road. Breaks between the brows. A gaze soaking there. Stops, water not flowing. Candle tears run down. Halfway. Go out. See a gesture. No hand. Makes motions. Hours splash out. Staring at the coming-apart, light closes, I forgot to ask— ask what