the puzzles

for hours, into days
your mother would sit and
piece a giant puzzle
together at the dining
room table. eventually,
it would be done.
next she would laminate
it with glue, or paste,
then hang it on the wall
in her crafts room,
above the doll houses,
the balls of yarn,
the sewing machine
with patterns spread
across the floor. you
wonder if she remembers
any of it, as she sits
now and contemplates
her quietly folded
hands.