Growing up on a rustic farm we lived with our grandmother Jean

Who quietly did all our washing and milking and baking and kept our bedrooms clean

Well, one day I got to thinking and realized I’d never seen…

Grandma catch a cold or use the water closet or eat gravy and beans

Burdened with such evidence it clearly seemed, she must have been a facsimile: a humanoid machine

My theory:

Perhaps behind her wrinkly skin and musky, congenial odors

There worked a system of widgets, pulleys, and motors

One summer afternoon, while she powered down in her chair

I peeked behind her weathered lips to see the wires, sparks and servos hidden under there

For one awful moment I felt very small and dumb

When all I saw was teeth, a uvula, and tongue

Taking heart, I slipped in my fingers, for I had scandals to deduce

Then, to my delight, a robo-doodad jiggled loose

At last, proof of the secret!  I’d show my big sisters it wasn’t just a daydream

Then Grandma’s jaw detached and I slammed my eyes and screamed!

She shot awake and tossed me down in a heap, ending my scientific venture