By Kristin Khadija Mahmoud Fraud I’m a fraud A lie Cut and crafted into an image No one can recognize I feast on delusions With a side of well wishes Giving orders from silk cushions Erecting monuments to the sky I’m a lie A fraud A Builder of dreams For the public to applaud I... Continue Reading →

My mother would kick my ass

By Kristin Khadija Mahmoud If my mother were alive She’d kick my ass She’d kick it so hard for my terrible jokes For the terrible stories And poems about her — well The one about food painting a mural on her shirt She’d kick my ass for giving up my dog And for fighting with... Continue Reading →


DivinityBy Kristin Khadija Mahmoud Do not press your Conduct on such a Wild Heart. Do not attempt to Tame that which cannot be controlled. Do not attempt to Take that which has never been yours. Love not what does not Wish to be an Object of the lust instilled deep within. Let not your Fickle... Continue Reading →

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... Continue Reading →


Hiraeth By Kristin Khadija Mahmoud You’re a corridor of rooms I barely remember A patchwork of places I’ve been A once roaring fire turned to smoldering embers But the shadows of the past won’t let me in Into the childhood of laughter and joy Where you are a house with two parents Before the house... Continue Reading →

I Want To Eat My Words

Image: Pixabay By Kristin Khadija Mahmoud I want to eat my words Shove them down so hard They’ll be seared into me Like a brand on the skin I’ll swallows these syllables Like venom from a viper As it drips down my throat I’ll seal these lips With a course, crimson thread Stop these lies... Continue Reading →


Tangled I am the shattered glass The broken outline of a forgotten past Jagged pieces slashing holes In each of my starring roles. I’m not a melody to be played But I’ll sing the chorus, stand in the parade Held together by thin stitches My wails of sorrow drowned out by ascending pitches A marionette... Continue Reading →

I was quiet, but I was not blind

Written by Kristin Khadija Mahmoud; First and last line by Jane Austen I took what was yours and made it mine I watched, writing out each line Careful to prune for the perfect wine Waiting for your secrets to unwind With patience the story grew From infancy to clashing hues This silence is my refuge... Continue Reading →

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