Plastic Surgery, Inpatient Ward
Two sisters from a house fire—
they each got morphine
before entering the warm water
in the tank, together.
The tech gathered his tools,
then carefully debrided
dead skin, pulled off adherent
bandages as the girls recited
“Bust a Move” to distract
them from his work. He did this
every day, took his mind
to some private cavern
to muffle their screams.
Empathy, an enigma,
his cruelty a kindness.
The girls tried, but they
hated him. Always knew
what was coming.
Published in the Healing Muse Vol. 24 No. 1 Fall 2025
