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.


Hands

Less than a week before
my mother died, after
she’d stopped talking
but her open eyes still followed
movement, still alert and hazel
and small almost to a squint.
I was sitting by her bed on
a wooden chair, the visitor
chair, that always had
someone in it. I bent toward
her damp powdery face and
kissed her cheek.

She took my hands in hers
and squeezed them so hard,
it hurt. And she held on tight for
more than a minute before letting go.