My Father on Public Transportation II

If sorting through my fatherís things is meant to bring
Closure or some same slipperyfish feeling,

The last thing I ever gave him. A map, directions
From my apartment to the airport. Exact costs, approximate
Durations. Walk to the end. Confirm the route.
If you see [blank], youíve gone
Too far.

Dear God, why let this be
Our last exchange? Why not
Let me press into his palm
A rock
Or crayon-colored sweet?

Clare Marie Myers holds an MA in Poetry and is slowly wending her way through an MFA in Fiction, both from San Francisco State University. In 2007, she was awarded SFSU's William Dickey Fellowship in Poetry. Her work has recently appeared in ZYZZYVA. (

Boxcar Poetry Review - ISSN 1931-1761