Inches

this itch 
you can’t reach 
you try to scratch 
you fall on your back 

at least 
it’s the sort of pain 
you can try to treat 
with tiny pills and your hands 

will the art make amends 
I can’t forget all the stings 
you bring new things 
into my plans 

I pick them up 
too late 
now the table 
has been set