Amputee

by Rafael Campo

What rotten luck: a slot machine that’s jinxed,

A one-armed bandit emptying itself

Of coins, its self-esteem.  I see myself,

Or what is left of me, and when I think

Of what it’s like to have one arm, how pure

I’ll be, how asymmetrical and odd,

I want another chance to spin, ask God

For better luck, or better, for a cure –

I raise my arm, then jerk it down and wish

For watermelons, lemons, dollar signs,

My brain is spinning now, I’ve lost my mind,

I’m gambling with everything I miss –

My normal life, his kiss, the awful arm

That wanders through the night in search of me.

I want to lose it all, thunderously,

The gold coins swollen rivers in the storm.