Fitting the Picture
A thousand pieces.
I start at the edge,
add lintel to jamb, make
space to press
odd shapes into what’s missing.
Two bikes, one blue,
one red, rest
on a bridge over a canal
at sunset
in a city I’ve been to
once or twice.
Front wheels confer, Venn-style,
maybe sharing notes
on wind and weight,
a subset of fears:
broken glass, rust’s bite.
I devote myself to detail,
kneel to it: assured curve of wheel,
the handlebars’ ironic tilt.
The easy bits.
In the distance, sun
seeps into the trees, making it
hard to figure out where
the leaves belong.
There’s a quiet to the work that fits
the general picture.
Weeks later, when it’s done,
I angle my phone over it all
like an awning,
show it to a friend on Zoom.
Hers is an underwater scene:
dark seas,
dolphins with inhuman,
tantalising smiles.
She says it reminds her of her dreams.