One Poem by Alec Solomita

 

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Caught in the sludge of rush hour,

a kind of insomnia takes over —

thoughts and worries

unbundle before me,

my sister’s diagnosis,

my brother’s apartment in Turin,

my hourglass bank account.

 

Cars beside and behind

turn their engines on and off

in the dilatory parade.

Clouds of pigeons

swing back and forth.

 

Sirens become muted

like a decrescendo coda

accompanying the end

of all movement.

 

It’s one of those jams

that lasts long enough

so people leave their

vehicles to stretch their

legs and try to get a glimpse

of the crash up ahead.

 

And, like insomnia, my life crawls

onto the seat beside me and tells me

what failure is, what loves I’ve lost,

how much Scotch I drink,

the whole plagued affair.

Alec Solomita is a writer working in Massachusetts. His fiction has appeared in the Southwest Review, Eclectica, The Mississippi Review, and Southword Journal, among other publications. He was shortlisted by the Bridport Prize and Southword Journal. His poetry has appeared in many journals, including the Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Poetica, The Lake, One Art, and several anthologies. His chapbook “Do Not Forsake Me,” was published in 2017 by Finishing Line Press. His full-length poetry book, “Hard To Be a Hero,” was released by Kelsay Books in the spring of 2021. He’s just finished another, titled “Small Change.