The Skull

By Colin Martin

The air whispers,SSSSSSSSS.
It flows through a cavournis gap,
that once was a nose, weaving into
any crack it can find,SSSSSSSS.

Up, around, sideways it flys, cleaning
the mind out of the empty skull,SSSSSSS.
Whatever, whoever, whenever something
was there. But now all there is left is
the look. No feeling or personality, no meaning.
Nothing that makes something human,
is left. Just a look.

SSS-… the wind is gone,
And still it’s just a look.