Poetry by Al McClimens
I’m taller than ten
tall tales. And twice
as likely as false
memory. Take me back
to the safe house,
hostage to the ritual
measurement, wedged
against the door jamb,
stepping away from
the pencil mark,
the date, the height,
the growing realisation
that one day I’ll be
counted in other scales
when you swaddle me
in your arms
and the weight
of the world falls away.
