Haiku Kukai 4

Roundtable Haiku • Kukai 4, Fall 2008

closing my ears
but still reading his lips

class reunion:
no one has changed

autumn downpour
you teach me

we kiss
in high heels and neck ties
for the last time

Fourth and Goal:
he finally shares
the blanket

empty stage—
all that remains
of the burned-out theater

roadside cross
no fresh flowers
in months

windswept leaves
tremble in his voice--
his brother's funeral date

slowly starts storing
thinking about winter
nut after nut

I miss his warmth

instead of flying home
one red ladybug
chooses a daisy

sharing hot chocolate
the fire...

high school girls' dresses
keep getting shorter

on your mother's couch
where you lost yourself...
in me

under the lilac bushes
perfect crooks in the branches
for my tea set

october chill up my legs
I don't look...
in the casket

fall break—
my nights at home
without you

coming home months later
Dad still forgets
to do the dishes

board game closet—
every shelf once filled
now empty

on your skin
cherry blossom fragrance—
home at last

hiking the first trail
peanut butter and jelly
smudge his cheek

wobbly log
my face
in the muddy creek bed

clear autumn sky
he sends his eldest son back
to God

around the kitchen table
the women talk
about husbands snoring

tiny fish family
in the creek bed
a tree falls over

your driveway
not as long
as I remember it

home from college
my old neighborhood
twice as big

going home
I pack stale bread
for the chickens

heartbroken teen
on Halloween
bite size wrappers everywhere

the rose garden
grandma’s old house

swinging at our old park
my friend and
her daughters

in streetlamp glow
dogwalkers pass
sleeping houses

Millikin homecoming
even the sky
is blue

screaming girl
shooting around the corner
long-legged rooster

our talk
over the stove—

tea light candles
shine through
his Jack-o-lantern smile

near the door
because you couldn't leave me

walking onto the football field
during half time
my high heels sink in mud

over the rickety railroad tracks
the half harvest moon
hangs low

thee hours &
one worm later
you made me throw him back

grade school playground—
the boys help me look
for my earring

riding home
the smell in our clothes
of grandma's house

2 lbs less
and frizzy hair

Emergency Room
where you and I
both died

chicken eggs
from my Aunt’s hens
looking for spots

down along the railroad tracks
rust lit
by the harvest moon

tying a tie
with the three stooges
no one knows how



© 2008, Randy Brooks • Millikin University
All rights returned to authors upon publication.