A Crack

There is a crack in my ceiling

just beginning to show through

layers of paint meant to mask

the blemish.

The prior owners must have

assumed we would believe

the crack was a sign

of decay.

So they covered it up.

But the crack is determined.

I wish I could say

I’m letting it go,

but I can’t stop staring.

The ceiling is a mirror,

and this crack

is my reflection

staring back at me.