We bought the chair from Ikea, winding
our way through the store’s enigmatic trails,
threading through pseudo-pscandinavian
names, imaginary kitchens, bedrooms,
living rooms, until at last we found it.
Pale birch curves, soft leather cushions,
a footstool inviting weary feet. Perfect
for our new home, our ocean view.
He ate his lunch in it almost every day,
setting his dishes on the low bookcase,
easing his feet onto the footstool.
“I’m so glad we moved here.”
I watch the ocean change from blue to grey
to green to blue again. The sun shines
through the magnolia. I sit on the couch
where I can see his empty chair.
Ruth Bavetta’s poems have been published in Nimrod, North American Review, Slant, Tar River Poetry, Spillway, Hanging Loose, Poetry East, and many others. She has published four books and has work included in several anthologies. She writes at a messy desk with a view over the Pacific.