and the lonely people shout,
“where is her face, the one we love,
that she kept in the jar by the door?”
The cellos start playing discordant notes.
The singers stop singing their songs.
The erections fall flaccid and begin to drool.
Eleanor says, “I gave that face to the river,
where it was eaten by silver fish
who often mistake masks for food.”
The vultures skulk in their feathery scarves,
squawking incoherent cries into their wings,
jealous of another missed meal.
Eleanor smiles and invites them to her divorce,
her eyes like thin blue curtains
pulled over the windows of a church.
The lonely people run
and jump into the river,
forgetting to take off their clothes.
Eleanor throws some rice to the crows,
saying, “Don’t worry. Time still ticks
the same in my bones.”
Jay Sizemore dropped out of college and has since sold his soul to corporate America. He still sings in the shower. Sometimes, he writes things down. His work has appeared online and in print with magazines such as Rattle, Prick of the Spindle, DASH, Menacing Hedge, and Still: The Journal. He’s never won any awards. Currently, he lives in Nashville, TN, home of the death of modern music. His chapbook Father Figures is available on Amazon.
Eunoia Review 
This is beautiful.
Jay, I like this and so much of your work. Thank you.