poem written based upon this image--an online poetry class assignment
He starts with the easy pieces~ the corners, the edges, the parts of life that stay where they’re put. But the sky refuses to behave. Its fragments lift from the table, hovering above his hands like small constellations waiting for him to remember where they once belonged. He doesn’t look startled anymore. Some puzzles do that~ they rise when you’ve asked too much of gravity, when the unfinished part of your life decides it’s tired of lying flat. He reaches for a star-shaped piece, but it drifts upward, as if the cosmos has opinions about how he should finish himself. He laughs under his breath, the way someone laughs when they’re almost ready to admit the truth. The truth is this: he’s not assembling a picture. He’s assembling a question. Every floating shard of sky is a reminder that the universe isn’t something you complete~ it’s something you join one piece at a time.
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