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The Long Stretch

ďA man has to know his own limitationsĒ Ė Harry Callaghan, Magnum Force

Iíll 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 couldnít stop worrying
at untested bones for weaknesses,
hassling my hormones and my glands
to over-reach themselves, then crack on.
Iíve gone too far to care about
sizes of baths or shower head heights.
Iím 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 Iím long,
I choose bathing in
Marianaís Trench,
my resting place as
San Andreasí fault.
Iíll 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 Iíve 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.

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