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 last April by Kelsay Press. He lives in Massachusetts.

Bathsheba Bathing

The living doll in the lamplit room
flicks the water’s sleeping surface
and the sparkling nimbus catches
the eye of the starry-eyed king
restless upon the roof,
who, in no time,
clouds the air with
his own seed-strewn milky way,
deadlier than a slung stone.

And faithful Uriah rolls in his
sleep with a proleptic moan.

King David sends and inquires
after the woman. The wife, they
tell him, of Uriah the Hittite
And David sends messengers
and takes her. Her lips are like
a thread of scarlet, her skin is
dark but comely, clear as
the copper Spring of Gihon.

And faithful Uriah rolls in his
sleep with a doleful moan.

The royal baitsim of the young king
are full of vigor and he plants
Bathsheba like a fertile field
and fills her with life that very night.
They rut like teenagers until,
too sore to move, they sleep
the dreamless sleep of youth.
He lies between her breasts ’til dawn.

And faithful Uriah, on the field of
battle under the ragged sky
troubles his own sleep with a ragged moan.