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, Subterranean Blue Poetry, 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 at Finishing Line Press and Amazon. He lives in Massachusetts, USA.

Zoom

Patient in front of the screen
waiting for my shrink to show.
She’s always been late for sessions
but when we were live, I didn’t mind
hanging out in the waiting room
trying to guess what was
troubling the young woman
seated along the wall not far from
the older man reading the last
newspaper on Earth.

We all need an audience.

But how I loved the sight of her,
handsome and tall, a large, graceful
woman whose unpretended smile
eases my soul as she reaches
the glass door and catches
sight of me. That was almost enough.

Now when she’s late, I sit stiff in my seat
worrying about how red I look on Zoom
and how worrying about it makes my face flush.
Upright and uptight, sometimes for ten minutes.
“Connecting connecting.” Then she appears
and the smile’s the same, but I don’t get
to see her sway back and forth as she leads
me to her office. It’s better than nothing,
but it ain’t the same.