(for David)

one thousand pieces
pour out of the box

as a dark-haired teen
sits in a gray chair
reading shapes

recomposing
the aerial photo of earth
the haze of continents
beyond circle-swirling atmosphere

he turns each piece face-up
testing edges with tip of index finger
measuring faint demarcations
of sapphire cerulean indigo slate powder-blue midnight
with wavy bits of ecru and white

runs his fingertip
along russet black shadows of rapid synapses
to remake his world
with a visual precision
that words –
if he had them
could never achieve

– Mary Ellen Talley