Inches

i keep seeing inches in time

little spaces

they linger

or jump

to connect larger space

making conversations

they fuse and bind through aggregate

inch of time after inch of time

then life is an allotment of inches

circumstances

formed by inches of temporal spans

a sigh

a snort

these are obvious culprits

red hand the inch is had who snorts

at a funeral

or sighs

at a wedding

but is it not more exciting

and even romantic

to exalt in the more muted inch of moments

a lingering hand

a slow withdrawal from embrace

how we pursue these tiny pieces

these fractions

the two by ones in lego we search for

at the bottom of the bag

blistering, chaffing, scratching our hands

for the glory of the smallest square which

makes a difference

not in use

but in wholeness

and we love wholeness

it is the pageantry of relative perfection

to have all the inches we can imagine

like the sequins comprising the the vestment of our sum of days

after all, we die in an inch of time

made whole regardless