Colin’s final scene

 

He’s dead.

 

The stage curtain glides briskly along the rails

Squeals echo through the black of the ward

While porters trundle trolleys

along the darkened, shiny floors

          chiming like xylophones

Death’s midnight instruments

 

They approach the green tent

And enter; there to just dispose of the body

 

Such tidy gardeners you’ve never seen

as they remove him from the chamber

 

Now asleep forever.