Leave Me At The Altar

Nowhere around,
I poke through
the gift table, ripping
holes in paper, seeing
if there was anything
you might have liked.
Grandma looks nervous.
The band plays our song,
bastards. The mirrors
on the wall crackle like
embers. Blown up
billboard-style, our
pretty faces look so happy
to be in the center
for once. In the hall,
the next generation
of cousins are having
a blast, telling secrets.
Only I can guess
where you are.
In bed, or never
to be seen again.
If you are at home
I will bring us soft
sugar-coated pretzels,
and if you are gone
I will eat them all
myself, wondering.