This is strange tessellation,
confirmation of sex
& of feeling
concave clips to convex;
something’s being born
something that’s cluttered,
lacking in form.

Picture comes piece by piece
unravelling puzzle;
corners and edges laid,
a grapple
a struggle.
With a stroke, slap and tickle
it comes bit by bit;
at the end, fill the middle
like it looks on the lid.

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