NaPoWriMo Day 13: Constants

A divine number c
bring home, up to speed.

From hand to hand ℓP
what my fingers can measure
in the space of breaths.

In nested bell jars
I reside. In wait
do I weigh,

I longer for the cornered edge
like a child’s toy
sent spinning by small hands.

Finding the crevice between the boards
or the lines of grout
the line the hallway

watching everything draw up to a point
where everything become infinite.

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