infinity piece puzzle 

on the floor of the living toom 
we build the puzzle. maybe a million pieces.
do the border first, a frame. 
moving the furniture. the couch 
sprouting hooves & runs to hide
in the attic. there's only so long
until the puzzle evaporates
& we all become pieces. i picture myself
with three little arms fitting perfectly 
into a circle of four other dead boys.
the image is coming into focus.
a bird? yes one huge great bird.
all those green & black feathers.
no, maybe it is a courtyard. 
i should have mentioned earlier
a puzzle is something only a family
must complete. we woke 
on this yellow saturday
& found stacks & stacks of fragments.
a voice came from the windows 
& told us loudly
we had to assemble. my father 
got a screw driver from the garage
& tried to unscrew the house.
all of us on our knees. frantic.
sifting through corners of an unknown image. 
we take more guesses aloud. 
my brother thinks it's the beach house
from that one year in chincoteague.
he sees the channel & the kayaks.
i see now a great snake wrapping itself 
around my arm. the black rat snake 
we found in the brush. its scales 
glossy in sun beams. my mother thinks
it might be a loaf of breaf. steam pouring.
free from the oven. the whirls of soft white 
beneath the crust. i start to wonder
if an image is every stagnant thing.
i think of my favorite photographs 
of my younger self 
& how the tree in the background
tend to move with the wind-- how occasionally
one photo of me on the beach 
will appear with thick blankets of snow 
coming down around. my bare feet. 
the photograph self shivering. 
the puzzle blooms up the staircase
& into each of our rooms. 
it cannot stop itself. another match.
other paring. i find my face 
small & palm-sized on one piece. 
i found my brother's feet on another.
somehow, we all finish. sweat on our foreheads.
we are carefull. we move around the parameter
of rooms so as to not disturb the puzzle.
we say nothing of it to each other
just share a glance & go sit on our beds.
all the windows chatter about us.
they spread rumors that we are 
a strange family with too many fingers.
a tree outside yearns to be a puzzle 
& a bird feels the places on his body 
where the lines might be drawn
to turn him into one. before we sleep,
my brother comes into my room.
he says nothing but together 
we stare into the puzzle. a new image.
yes, you were waiting for me to announce
what the image really was. a new one emerges 
at each glance. this one is of us.
my brother & i stand on the porch.
rain pours down around us. 
we are small & barefoot. the rain turns
to gnats. the rain turns to pine cones
but all the while my brother & i
stand still in the picture.