Jigsaws

The moment muses on her. The truth in microscopic specks of dust. Settling on her eyelashes. While she stares out the window.

The lock on her door thundering with broken keys. Fidgeting and itching with random strangers. Where now. As if now is a concept strong enough to resolve. Chase the infection? In another dose of weak antibiotics.

The decimals in her head. Feeble percentages. Lingering funerals. Empty coffins. It was then. But I am now. The prickle of her lips. As the window shatters. Bits of paper. Between her fingers. A new picture. Same old puzzle.

Yet to be solved.