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’s working on another. He lives in Massachusetts.

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Dog Days

Plash of our feet in
the pothole pond,
trousers rolled up,
Mom yelling from
the front porch,
“That water is dirty!”

Which was clear enough
to us. We couldn’t see
the bottom and it’s
only a foot or so deep.
But she seemed anxious,
and things were different.

So we stopped our fun
and tried to dry our cuffs
with our sleeves.
Unsuccessfully.
“Your just making
It worse,” she cried

before returning
to the kitchen.
“Come in and clean up!”
Four children with
dirty feet, we processed
Into the house and up

the grimy front stairs.
Then into the bathroom
where we wiggled our toes
in the tub and watched
clouds of dirt swirl away
and slip down the drain.

When we caught the
aroma of meatballs
rolling in the frying pan,
we dried off in a rush,
and tumbled down the backstairs,

down to Mom’s cooking,
her white under-chin
trembling, her wig cockeyed.
The phone rang and she jumped.

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Easier

“There must be an easier way.”
Mother bent over the washing machine
repeats her hourly mantra
as she tugs out the corkscrewed, damp
sheets, diapers, and jeans
and shifts them to the dryer.
“But,” reel off three of her kids in unison,
“if there is one, I don’t know it.”

I remember, though,
when she’d hang them on the clothesline
in a sunnier time, in a sunnier place,
in an easy breeze.