Oh...

She's got that look in her eye,
Out of the blue,
Dreaming of specimens,
Lined in a queue.

Instruments ready,
Table all set,
Manacles opened,
Now in you get!

The entrails are calling,
The blood swirling round,
An incision just so,
Curiosity unbound.

She's got that curve to her lips,
A saccharine grin,
Preserving your innards,
Stretching your skin.

A blithe little hum,
Prepare the display,
Pickled in jars,
Now her briny ballet.

Penned by my hand on Kinsday, the 4th of Severin, in the year 494 MA.