A Skull Picked Clean

Blank walls, dead grates, obliterated pages –

Vacancy filled up the house.

Nothing remains of the outward shows,

The inner rages.

Picture collection, trophies, library –

All that entranced, endorsed, enslaved –

With gimcrack ornaments have achieved

Nonentity.

How can I even know what it held most precious,

Its meaning lost, its love consumed?

Silence now where the cool brain hummed:

Where fire was, ashes.

How neatly those rough-tongued removal men

Have done the job. This useless key

They left us when they had earned their pay –

A skull, picked clean.