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when the War has been replaced by another and another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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