Nothing but the spine attached to the wings
Left on the side walk for passerby’s.
The molted skin from the snake that you had as a child.
A curled up male mosquito lying on the windowsill
As you are looking out at the snow falling behind it.
The dismembered and stripped body of the chicken from last nights supper
Spread around the kitchen floor curtesy of the dog.
Soon to be dead spider who mistakenly thought you would be a good landing spot.
Best of all
You live in a mortuary.
Life is grand.
Saturn's Premier Poet 