World Series

I'm pleased to note that 'World Series' has been printed in the most recent edition of The Chaffin Journal.

World Series

Julie Bolitho

There are times when I am lost in 1939

at the World Series

holding my breath

as the Yankees beat the Reds

the war just a glimmer of lens flare in the stands

My grandmother was not quite ten then

but I am there

with autumn leaves

tumbling russet into my hair

The crisp air is cloaked in blue sky

and like snow on the tongue

the lungs suckle invisible charges

from the atmosphere

The perfume of polyester and body odor,

leather and red stitching,

rise from the pitch

like smoke

And in the distance

I wave back at myself

seventy years later

when the War has been replaced by another and another

and I cannot remember

what took me from here

or how I found my way home

or back again

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© Julie Bolitho 2018