We Were Always Friends

by Shaun Terry

Cuddling

Two eggs spin
on sterling silver spoons,
spotting while executing
synchronized pirouettes.

Baby birds
chipping at stone –
fuzzy contortionists –
trying to fight free
from the ecru walls
that isolate them.

Their feet stumble
over remnants of
tattered translucent prisons.

“How did you know I was lonely?”

“Well, why else
would I have longed
for you?”

Every fraction
of a jigsaw puzzle
fits flushly against
the pieces for which
it was designed,
just as no amount of force
will ever fuse
two disparate jigsaw puzzles
together.

Advertisements