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

Blouse.

Splat!

Drops large enough to drown a colony of ants

Rains down on the clean fabric of my mother’s

Bosom.

I howl at the moon for my mother’s plight

She gives me that burning look to cease my

Chortling

I laugh even more

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