Second degree burn (work-in-progress)

Though it’s three in the morning, the nurse

In the burn ward is cheery, barely

scolds me  for waiting too long at home 

for the pain to subside, hours with

fingers submerged, messy layers of epidermis and blisters,

and heat going on and on. Lucky, she says,  steam doesn’t

burn like fire.  It climbs away quickly, merging

with its originary air, so fleeting that you

will soon forget, let go of misfortune, get on

      with things of day and life, step out boldy and barefoot again

onto the summer asphalt, stop wallowing

 in your misery.

-           Miriam Adelman