Finding my Shape

She picks up

The moon-shaped brick.

How can she not understand that

It goes through the moon-shaped hole?

Yet time after time it is slammed

Into hard, straight edges;

Stuck

On incongruous angles

And shoved right through uncomfortable polygons, end to end.

Until one morning,

The moon-shaped brick found its way,

And though it needed a little help

To face the empty space head-on,

Through it posted.

Perfectly

Satisfying.