“A man has to
know his own limitations” – Harry Callaghan, Magnum
Force
I’ll stick my neck
out here and say a man
has to know his elastic limits well.
I let myself go and got into
high cotton. I couldn’t stop worrying
at untested bones for weaknesses,
hassling my hormones and my glands
to over-reach themselves, then crack on.
I’ve gone too far to care about
sizes of baths or shower head heights.
I’m well over the problems caused
by shirtsleeve lengths versus neck size
or width, only ever finding
you can manage to tick off two.
It was just time to push on through
while keeping my feet on earth,
to stretch my arms, and aim up.
I keep at this because
of things beyond my reach.
I repeated the words
I could get used to this.
I could get used by this.
Every time a yes comes out
I gain about an inch.
Cats in lofty trees and
bats in belfries are now
options within my grasp.
I crave tall drinks of fresh
water; not streaks of piss.
I want dizzy heights
and a place to boom from
within my cavernous chest,
to pat the head and look
down on Robert Wadlow.
Mister Fantastic
can just step away.
As tall as I’m long,
I choose bathing in
Mariana’s Trench,
my resting place as
San Andreas’ fault.
I’ll tie an anchor
to my own ankles
and reach out, to grasp
asymmetric bars
as telephone wires.
It feels correct
to keep going
to telescope
then stretch into
Tadasana.
A man needs to
know his known known
limitations.
Now I’ve gone
on too long,
you must
let me
wind my
neck
in.
Matt Riches
If you have any thoughts on this
poem, Matt Riches
would be pleased to hear them.
