Fall 2017


Maggie E. Winkler


I asked him once

What kind of tie he would wear

To walk me down the aisle.



If I make it to your wedding

I’ll wear whatever tie you

Want me to.”


He wakes up on the floor

Again. Still in the suit he left

In yesterday morning.


He rises with the sun

Despite the aches,

And we go for a walk.

We are silent and he is


Drunk. Convinced that every

Wrong turn was a shortcut but

Just took us further away from


Where we meant to end up.

Hours later, the lobby is marble

And polished. We track mud on

The rugs and leave fingerprints


On the glass. The doors close

He tells me, the same way he

Did before, That I will be okay


After he is gone.

Then the doors open.

I get off the elevator and

Walk down the aisle


Dressed in all white

Lace, sweetheart neckline

Veil covered eyes.


The elevator doors close

As I reach the altar with

No one there to hand me off.

I am alone.


He rides the elevator down

Without me and

Does not come home.