Dispatch

Dispatch from the trench,

down deep in the sickbay,

partner for life on a gurney

stuck with the vein needle

and the clip on the right

index finger, monitoring

heart rate like a vegetable

awaiting the triple dose

of death as administered

by the state, the shorter

trokar-looking thing is

placed in her mouth

to get a proper degree

reading, but the heartbeat

and temperature are

elevated and she is kept

overnight for observation

and just to make sure

the gift stays wrapped,

and this is where the

dispatch concludes,

in theory anyway.