Stephanie Hashagen

Elegy

I walk up and tell the woman

with the big Texas hair

that I’m looking for my dad’s grave—

and it feels absurd

to just walk into a place and say that out loud

like I’m at the grocery store

and they just did that thing where they

move all the aisles around for no good reason

and I need to ask someone

where to find the taco shells

or the Cap’n Crunch.

And it’s not like my dad went anywhere

but it’s been 10 years since

I’ve been back to Houston,

and I’ve always been

ambivalent at best about cemeteries

and I never felt like he was there there, anyway

so what’s the point?

She asks me to spell his name one more time

and I surprise myself by tearing up a little

as she hands me a map

with his space marked on it

in red Sharpie.