Turning and sorting

at a petty pace

until border pieces

fall and snap into place

tabs fitting into blanks

at last in perfect order

 

but wait

 

the top edge outmeasures

the bottom

 

the frame looks ridiculous

like a crooked Commons Chamber.

 

What the HELL is going on?

What sort of stern genius

die cuts

interchangeable pieces?

It’s an interlocking nightmare!

 

At last blind rage

yields to good sense;

emotion is surfeit.

 

With Churchillian pluck

the hunt for

the offending

piece begins.

 

A survey of mottled blues

moldered browns

and stippled greys

yields nothing.

 

The work is destroyed

then rebuilt.

 

Continuous effort

at last brings victory,

and isn’t that precisely

why you are doing

a jigsaw anyhow.