Alec Solomita’s fiction has appeared in the Southwest Review, The Mississippi Review, Southword Journal, and The Drum (audio), among other publications. He was shortlisted by the Bridport Prize and Southword Journal. His poetry has appeared in The Ekphrastic Review, Gnashing Teeth Publishing, The Galway Review, Bold + Italic, Litbreak, The Blue Nib, Red Dirt Forum, and elsewhere. He was longlisted for the erbacce-prize 2020. His chapbook, “Do Not Forsake Me,” was published in 2017 and is still available on Amazon. He lives in Massachusetts, USA.
Facebook and its empty words,
words too weak or fake,
flail like a broken bird
children pin with a forked stick.
Down fills the small air
as one child starts to weep.
It’s not fair, she cries, it’s not fair,
while inside the hot house
Facebook repeats we’ll get
through this, do not fear.
We’ll get through this,
do not fear.
Someone’s working outside somewhere,
a small machine, a hand-held sander,
maybe. The sound follows me
from window to open window.
I’m on a quest, a picture hanging
from one finger of each hand, intent
on my small chore, on some requited
kind of feeling when I find the right place
for the right painting, the right measure
of space and light — where it can reside
in its own brightness, its own mood.
A leafy village scene, canting steeple,
rippling stream; a sepia couple embraced,
naked and floating in their small frame.
Maybe by the fading Parrish you loved so shyly:
the pensive young girl on the moony beach,
her arms ’round her knees, her eyes half-closed.