Every time I move to another city,
I pack a puzzle my uncle gave me
when I was ten. It is an Escher
mosaic split into individual pieces.
A reptilian monkey rests in a dove’s wings.
A camel’s neck fits into an elephant’s trunk.
A flamenco guitar steadies a heron’s legs.
On afternoons in new rooms,
I pull out the box from a high-up
closet shelf. It is then a community
of mismatches taking my hands.