Maggie E. Winkler
I asked him once
What kind of tie he would wear
To walk me down the aisle.
“Maggie,
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.