Panel I. 

    Jigsaw wife! he shouts. 

    Oh no! she cries.

    Jigsaw wife! he insists.

    No no! she cries.

    You are a great big puzzle, and I am going to assemble your jigsaw pieces, he says.

    No you’re not buster, she says.

    And I am a great artist, he continues. I will not merely assemble but perfect you. 

    This is vanity, she says. No, it’s a vanitas, he corrects. 

    What about my feelings? she asks.

    There is neither soul nor life here; it is cardboard and nothing more.

    Saying this, he scrambles all her pieces and spreads them on the kitchen table beside the salt and pepper shakers and the tabasco bottle.

    He gathers like-colored pieces together, mostly green of the garden around her. He snaps together the borders of the panel. He assembles a couple rabbits at her feet and a shovel-billed bird eating a toad.

    I will start with you by discarding this flawed piece of a robe that hides too much of your body; I must cut it lower; the charms it covers ought to be revealed. Next to go is that mole on your nose. 

    He begins creating her body from the rib-arch of her back which pushes her abdomen forward.

    He says, The color of your hair in these pieces is wrong. I will repaint them with hammered gold and discard the tailings.

    He hears a mumbled murmur. 

    I will add your mouth last, he tells the puzzled pile. And it will be closed.

    These eyes look up. With scissors he re-cuts them to turn downcast. Your shoulders are too strong, your hips too narrow. He takes up his chisel and mallet to sculpt his masterpiece. I shall model your curves on the divine turns of skylark flocks in flight. And your skin…snow-white ivory yields to his touch.

    I have removed the failings that nature gave the female heart, he says, but forgets to ectomize the slithy things crawling from the pool by her feet.

    The puzzle complete, he shouts, I am victorious! I worship myself in the ideal form which I have made. No, nothing so beautiful was ever found in nature’s dross. I bless this jigsaw. Now I wish shade beneath the tree for us to rest. And how about some lunch?

Posted for OpenLinkNight #321 Blast Off! 04 Thursday Aug 2022 at dVerse ~ Poets Pub