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.

Turkey Trot

I’m sprawled on my sunshiny porch,
waiting for a raft of wild turkeys
to parade by on the sidewalk.
When I was young, there were
no turkeys trotting the town,
bullying people with thick claws
and sharp beaks — only pigeons,
the occasional robin,
high wire squirrels, baffled
rabbits to toss rocks at.

How I regret my age now.
I can’t hit the turkey
on its small head or red neck
with a well-aimed rock.
It would shock the innocent
bystanders. But if I were
a boy hiding behind

the trunk of a big oak
with a pretty heavy,
almost flat stone
in my hand, my patience
would be enviable.
Not only would I wait
for the birds, but

I’d keep an eye out
for passersby as well
although back in those days
passersby barely noticed
children on their own
up to no good. Now,
emotional glue keeps

the poor kids in hand
or walking a step ahead
or behind their beta fathers
or alpha mothers.
When they wander
half a block away,
“Come back, Ian!”