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. His chapbook, “Do Not Forsake Me,” was published in 2017 and is still available at Finishing Line Press and Amazon. His first full-length book of poetry was published this past April by Kelsay Press. He lives in Massachusetts, USA.

Charles Street Station

It was snowing so pretty
it made the ancient subway platform
look like a Hollywood Christmas —
eddies of flakes, swirling
white whirlwinds that blanched
our hair as we stuck out our tongues
to taste.

When I saw the flakes
melting on your tongue,
it was like a swift swirl of snow
had entered my body.
And though we’d never,
we hadn’t, we’d never,
we closed in, each on each,
wild as rutting mountain sheep,
breathless and brainless.

I have trouble breathing
thinking about it now.
Forty years later,
I have trouble breathing.