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Self-Portrait with National Lottery Winnings after a Roll-Over Jackpot
by
Simon Armitage
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Numbers, there on the screen, were the self-same: the date of my birth expressed as a sum, the rate of my heart while perfectly calm, my height in feet, my weight to the nearest stone, the teeth in my head, the women I've known. Stark-bollock-naked except for a hat, sunk to the waist in a slag-heap of cash, I'm rolling a joint with a fifty-pound note to blow nought after nought in rings of smoke. The artists breaks off from his easel for a p*ss. A mirror on the wall, face on, gives back me in the pink, in paint, and me in flesh. It's hard to tell the fraction from the whole, I think: which makes up which, what gives, if that divides by this, or this by that, or that by this.
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