Fourteen blocks dumped on the
rug. But still their arrangement
is just right. Move one and it’s
still just right. How precisely
they lie there. A hammer on
the table next to a vase with roses.
The round table has a white
top and the white table, a round
top. Yellow roses in a blue
vase, the pale handle of the
hammer and then there’s the cube,
the circle and the oblong of
the blocks: maybe they are facets
of something that continues
in the world, the whole
hidden from view.