Jigsaw

 

This jigsaw can’t be done

Its 52 idiot pieces refuse to be

As one

They’re different sizes, from different sets

I turn them round and round

Try to force them to connect

The image creases, bends and folds

Tabs are locked in wrong sized holes

Pictures, juxtaposed, a half face frowns

The other laughs

Grotesque, disjointed 

Mockeries of photographs

Run your hand across this surface

Feel it bump and fall beneath your palm

An uneven sea

Of gold and blue and red

Rises and swells to chaos

Breathes and drops to calm

I need you

To show me how to see the sky

To lock the edges in position

My pieces are all misaligned

But you can take them, rearrange them

Part counsellor, part mathematician

This jigsaw disobeys the laws of time and space

It can’t be understood

It can’t be done

But this mess we’ve made will have to do

For now

Next year 

There’ll be another one