I’ve honestly expected more of this collection. 
Being a Somali British poet, and hearing all the praise about it, my expectations were so high, and sadly not met. 

I wanted heart-wrenching, deep punches. I wanted to cry and feel a longing, I wanted this to be my favorite read of the year. I did not get that, however it started off strong with “I have my mother’s mouth and my father’s eyes; on my face they are still together.” And the shock value of the second poem, I also appreciated her use of culturally relevant things, things no one would understand except us (Somali/Sudan), like the line “front teeth stained from the fluoride in the water back home.” This line specifically made me feel SEEN. 
Another one about the diaspora dilemma “I think home spat me out, the blackouts and curfews like tongue against loose tooth.” 

And just the beautiful prose and language in:

“I’m bloated with language I can’t afford to forget.”

“In Love and In War 

To my daughter I will say, ‘when the men come, set yourself on fire.”


“Apathy is the same as war, it all kills you, she says. Slow like cancer in the breast or fast like a machete in the neck.”

I would still recommend this poetry collection, and I will be devouring Shire’s other works, with more reasonable expectations this time around.