A thousand pieces sorted
of Dali on my tea table.
A melting watch ticking
the time of hours gone by
losing sight, concentrating
on the minutest detail,
a shape, a colour, a nuance,
entrancing as the oeuvre
deviously takes possession
of a naïf unconscious impostor,
merely replicating what once was
a masterpiece secluded,
existing solely to the eyes
of some.
Sinking in the realm of the surreal
I defeat its glory by stating
the vanquishing word,
Done.
[Featured puzzle: Soft watch at the moment of its first explosion by Salvador Dali, 1954]