Chorus of Reluctant Goodbyes

Chorus of Reluctant Goodbyes

Faces come to visit,
invading my barren room
unwanted.
Peering through empty
sockets, they mock
me with their silent
disregard. 

Haunted,
self-satisfied, familiar.

Why do they choose me?  What doom have they prepared?

How do they feel
as I laugh?

Ha ha Ha ha Ha ha Ha ha
        Ha ha

They didn’t see the article, tucked
between Is your hairdresser an alien? and Elvis to marry in June!

The pictures were so sad.
     Sad.
     Promising.

Jerry, the exterminator,
says the sewers are filled with furry hordes,
yearning.

Out of sight of the faces,
I play a Pied Piper tune, if
he had never learned to play.

Chicken bone for F-flat,
Gristle for high C,
Ribs,
sticky with coagulated sauce,
the melody.

The notes burst forth,
Hansels and Gretels from behind
the butcher shop, abandoned.

Rising in crescendo up my stairs,
through my darkened door, they
echo off my walls.

I strain to hear scurrying, following feet,
dancing up my stair.

I listen and wonder
  ...will the faces shriek in silent agony before they are consumed?