I was standing outside of a bookshop 

In a city beset by wild winter winds 

A blush velvet chair was in its small window 

A woman almost hidden within a thick black coat 

Stood next to me and handed me a photograph 

The image although aged was of a white skull 

Recently exhumed from its eternal rest 

She told me a story which was as chilled as air 

A man had been exhumed after twenty years 

Time had not been kind to his remains 

And the skull detached when moved from the grave 

It was then that the photograph had been taken 

I asked of the reason why the image had been recorded 

And was told that although empty the sound of an object 

Could be detected in its cavity 

It was thought that it was the brain shrivelled after death 

But the brain is one of the first organs to decay 

So it was supposed that it was a brain tumour calcified 

I was told that my assumption was unlikely 

And that the man exhumed was a likely murder victim 

The woman then turned and vanished into the night

I knew then that I had been hired as I was a detective 

The final detective working in this city of pilgrims 

On the reverse side of the photograph the woman 

Had left her name 

Lee