in praise of masturbation

I hold you in my left hand
Pencil grip
You little satin monster

no need to
dip my my finger into into an oily well
for your generosity is prominent

A mere up-down stroke
Or two, is comfort like a dummy
Releasing neurotransmitters into my tummy

sometimes I pluck your
hooded grape
Muslims and Jews bereft

Who needs orgasm
When you have this comfort
This companion

A friend
A dispensing chemist
A tentacle of joy