By Thomas Page

Everything is marketed with some number accented

With the marks and symbols of something-something

To make it seem taller than the possibilities imagined.

People ask me my height which I’m always not so sure of

And make up some number that seems right–

Normally 6 foot 3 inches–

Whenever I meander around somewhere

And they see that my head is closer to the halogen line than theirs

Topping my frame is office-sick light in a secular halo.

I’m often everso slightly too big for things

Like the bus or the airplane or the back of the corolla

And my knees in some circus contortions try to fit

A mountain into a molehill.

My knees often hurt.

But there’s always something bigger that has its own reservations

Like the perfect height of Everest being changed to seem more natural.

One thought on “Alphabets: Kappa

  1. I am speechless. Truly, I am. Because I can relate to it. While reading I was send to my own experience. I am Bangladeshi though my ancestors are not from here. My height is 5’5 ” which is rare in Bangladeshi people. I have been asked frequently how I got it. I just smile and don’t want to bring my ancestors. I see less admiration and more envy. I feel like an outsider. This poem, the brilliant one doesn’t share 100% experience of mine. But while reading could visualise those less complement eyes and more skeptical eyes. It has a very profound personal connection and impact. When a poem can have such intense impact on the reader, this is great.
    Thank you for sharing,
    Best regards,


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