Horsier Hand Poem by Prophmatt . . .

As I lie on my back, alone, and look at my hand,
I realize it's been replacing a woman.

However, in all that it does so efficiently, it never complains or sulks ruefully. It never is jealous. It's never unkind. Most of all it never assumes- and therefore is able to take me as I am.

This hand cooks dinner, does laundry and tends the garden and washes my back in the shower. It likes to handle money, and it does that marvelously well.

One thing it will not do is make love to me. For that I need a woman who is all mine.

For now, tonight, I'll lay myself to sleep and dream of her coming home.