My father floated in springtime,
not too high just an inch or so
off the ground, drifting from
bud to opening bud.
Tilting his head to a low sky,
he noticed things.
lilacs are starting.”
“Far away thunder.”
He yelled at the TV.
“You’re full of shit!” he yelled at
Ronald Reagan, then turning to us,
on the couch. “He’s full of shit.”
And back to the TV in a funny, stagey voice,
“Mr. President, you are full of shit!”
Wakeful, he’d watch Johnny
then something else.
Mornings, he went to Mass,
seven, eight o’clock, before work.
Mornings were hard.
He coughed and hacked.
He’d come out of the bathroom
a gray faced man scuttling to
work in the cold, bits of ragged
tissue staunching his shaving cuts.
A Cabrera's poetry, fiction and essays have appeared in The New Guard, Brain,Child Magazine, Colere, Acentos Review, The Berkeley Fiction Review, Best Travelers' Tales 2021 Anthology, Mer, Deronda, and other journals. Her short fiction has been nominated for a Pushcart Award and adapted for stage by the Bay Area Word for Word Theater Company. She writes, teaches, dances and ride bikes in San Francisco, but not always in that order.
Alec Solomita is a writer working in the Boston area. His fiction has appeared in the Southwest Review, The Mississippi Review, Southword Journal, among other publications. He was shortlisted by the Bridport Prize and Southword Journal. His poetry has appeared in Poetica, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Driftwood Press, The Rye WhiskeyReview, The Galway Review, and elsewhere, including several anthologies. His poetry chapbook “Do Not Forsake Me,” was published in 2017. His full-length poetry book,“Hard To Be a Hero,” was released by Kelsay Books in May.