Alexis Rotella
Maid of Honor
The day after our vows, we tear open the large vertical box.
It’s unclear: metal? gold-painted papier-mache? An avant-garde totem? A postmodern plant stand? Whatever it is, it doesn’t speak to either of us. The good news: it’s returnable.
At the store, the clerk studies it, puzzled. “I’ll have to check in the back,” she says.
While she vanishes behind swinging doors, we browse the home decor section—candle holders, crystal fruit bowl, champagne glasses. Nothing feels quite right. Time passes.
An hour later, she reappears, slightly breathless. “I finally tracked down the purchase. It was discontinued. Sold for $1.99.”
ride home my husband and I share a Snickers
About the Author
Alexis Rotella lives in an apartment with a view of the sky at Whitestone Retirement Community in Greensboro, NC. Her companion is a seventeen-pound ginger cat named Colby. For a year she has been acclimating herself to widowhood.
I’m not very good at literary criticism, so I didn’t say anything when I first read this. I then saw it in your blog and that reminded me.
It’s a stunning poem that works on a lot of levels and it stays good every time I read it.