"SW."
"Extending from her left ear down her jaw,
the lac was seven centimeters long.
She told me that she slipped and struck her face
against the kitchen floor.
The floor was wet because she had been mopping it.
I guess she'd had to wait for many hours
since the clock read nearly midnight.
Who mops floors so late?
Her little girl kept screaming in her husband's
thick, impatient arms.
He knocked three times, each time to ask when we'd be done.
I infiltrated first with lidocaine.
She barely winced and didn't start
to cry until the 16th stitch went in
and we were almost through.
I thought my handiwork was admirable.
I yawned, then offered her instructions
on the care of wounds.
She left."