The Cedarville Review 2020

POETRY | 11 “Do you mind if we stop for a quick visit?” my father asks— so we pull into the memorial park and follow a path only he remembers. I watch the markers as we pass them each bearing a well-meaning allusion meant to guide us: Faith Good Shepherd God’s Garden. Just past the Last Supper we park falling into silence beneath a cluster of outstretched winter trees that offer with skeletal arms their somber reverence. My father turns off the car and stares out the window for a moment watching the motionless grave plaques searching for something maybe— then abruptly says: “Are you ready?” ALL THAT REMAINS MEGHAN LARGENT