Russell Jones

Excerpt:

Ghazal Jigsaw

From the small, closed window of our study table the stars are set
like the pieces of your space jigsaw. I ask if you’re any closer. The stars are set

you mutter as you slot another nook into the realised corner, and yet
you seem unsure which cosmos you’ve just pieced together. The stars are set

upon like foxes: your hands are hungry dogs. Your eyes are ready trumpets.
Your mind is a horse and then aha, you’ve a northern glow and the stars are set

in their place with a satisfactory click. Another, two more and you’re a puzzle-rocket.
They look so still and steady with you, but through our study window the stars are set

in more dimension than just those two. You drop a red dwarf and I reach to grab it.
You continue. I open the window and, like the sails of a ship, the stars are set.