The Arm

He travelled up the stairs
Into the next aisle
The near rows of chairs
Just visible
The coming storm
Gloomy through the windows
He reached for a crevice
Dimly observing a coin
Or a small bottle cap
Moving the chair forward
The metal flung up
His arm sliced away
Bloodlessly
His chest tightened
The arm moving closer
As the view darkly closed
Only his thud down heard
He walked on his knees
Fell onto the tracks
Cockatoos screeching
Crows sensing their chance