What do you say
to the arm you lost
when it comes crawling back?

Go on, look behind you.  It’s sneaking
up on you, one finger length at a time.

Do you sniff back shamed tears
while looking into your former palm? 
Do you ask why it took so long for the arm
to return?  Do you not inquire
too closely, and simply embrace it
with its former partner and your replacement
machine? 

You’d better start thinking of your answers:
a real man knows how to bluff his past
when it comes back demanding its place
in his world.  You know better than to say,
“I got used to living without you
and got myself a better hold on things
without you.”  You know better
than to brazen it out with the prosthetic
hanging on your shoulder. 
You ought to know better than to break it
like that, after it’s come so far
seeking a home.  Show it a little love:

at the least,
cry a little into its open hand
and pretend you miss it.