Phantom Limb

Every so often, Jack would peer over
at the glass jar sitting atop his desk
and scrutinize the severed hand inside.
The way it floated in the viscous liquid
it looked as if it could be animated
in some kind of articulating gesture,
and, even with its slightly gnarled fingers
and its unhealthy-looking cast of color,
it seemed so life-like, as if still alive,
not the dead hunk of bone and flesh it was.
   When they had amputated his right hand
Jack had requested they let him keep it
and had them put it in a jar for him,
so as to take it home for a memento.
   That was some years ago, but still the damn
thing captivated him as it always had.
And now, it was something of a paperweight
that sat atop his work desk, on display
for both him and anyone who came in.
He had no shame about it. On the contrary,
he and his clientele found it amusing
and an interesting conversation piece.
   As he glared at it, he imagined that
he still had it and wore it on his person.
Just then, while thinking of his long-lost hand,
he felt it move in response to his will.
Holding the nub in front of him, he stared
at the air where his hand would've been
and wiggled his fingers. Yet, they weren't there!
   He knew it must be a trick of the mind,
and yet it thrilled him. He had his hand back.
Or, at least, it felt like he did. He tried
it out and the sensation was wonderful!
Hand or no, he was overjoyed by this,
thankful he could at least feel it again.
   Glancing back at the hand inside the jar,
he saw that it was moving on its own,
and soon realized he was in control!