| The Poetry of Rodrigo Villegas |
Beyond any reasonable doubt
gentlemen of the jury,
and ladies, too,
we have come upon
a most unique and humane way
of dealing with those ruthless
transgressors of the law
within the confines of white-walled
antiseptic rooms.
He becomes a patient of the state.
A purposefully bungling doctor
or technician
who, like a legal scorpion,
pricks the victims hand.
Nothing more than last year's operation
twice repeated
and with some early medication
to help him with his sleep
lingers in the brain.
It's all a dream.
He's hardly felt the pinch.
There is no pain.
Now, to youself, count ten through one.
At five, there's no remembering.
At four, no return.
Ah, but here's a rub.
Our noble doctors all adhere
to Hippocrates' ancient oath,
an antiquated thing,
older than a thousand springs.
It's time for change.
What's that, no takers now?
Well, never you mind.
There must be some among us
in this great land.
Scattered about.
A few ex-Nazi doctors
we've been harboring for so very long?
You, Herr Doktor!
You know the meaning
of obedience to the state.
Help us to get rid of all this human waste.
Some have asked for your return?
But we said "No."
I knew you'd reconsider.
Come, let's go
to your first patient--
a man of twenty-three
who killed his wife
over some argument or two
he used a knife.
Two shrinks from three
proclaimed him sane.
After all,
he has himself to blame.
Ah, you see the priest
has talked to him again.
A chance to make amends
to God and men.
He has bequeathed his parts
to those in need.
Here, I'll read the list
of what he's going to leave.
Last Will and Testament
To the president of the land,
I leave my throbbing brain.
And my gonads to the governor.
To the mayor of this town,
my bursting heart.
To the public whom I have so offended
with my monstrous act,
I leave two luminous, clear corneas
for them to peek through
and stare at all of those
who, in return, have murdered me.
Beyond any reasonable doubt.