Swivel Chair

tell me about the war, she says.
the swivel chair sways as she taps her foot.
pictures of dogs and boats above her desk.
a vase her husband bought her full of pens.
her fingernails coated in brick red polish.
an invisible clock ticks. 

were you exposed to combat?
her forehead pinches with concern.
outside the window the trees release a storm 
of golden and yellow flecks into the wind.
no dust or clouds, just blue,
so clear it stings my eyes.
so beautiful. 


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