Sun-dried tomato sauce

By Kristin Khadija Mahmoud

Pasta covered in sun dried tomato sauce

Moved like a worm, wriggling free from a hook

To land with Jackson Pollock perfection on my mother’s



Drops large enough to drown a colony of ants

Rains down on the clean fabric of my mother’s


I howl at the moon for my mother’s plight

She gives me that burning look to cease my


I laugh even more

My mother tries again to scrap the Medusa tendrils from her plate.

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