World Series

27 Aug 2019

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when the War has been replaced by another and another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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Pushcart Nomination

November 25, 2019

Best American Essays 2018

November 11, 2019

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© Julie Bolitho 2018