Haiku Kukai 7 - Open Topic • Roundtable Haiku • Millikin University, Fall 2010

Dad and his Fox News
one thing about home
I'll never miss.

shades of black
my world

baby blues
by twinkling lights

heating pad on my stomach
she holds my hand
through the pain

Christmas morning—
Dad's passed out.
There is not Santa.

the reflection
of kites drifting
over the pond

sitting on a park bench,
eyeing the strangers
who ignore his rants

churchyard shadows
the priest confesses
to an empty room

a secret kiss
under the moonlight--
my frog prince

wobbly Christmas tree
no match
for the puppy

reaching out for help
still wasting life
he holds the bottle

underage cleavage
I let her order
another drink

last Thanksgiving
before the trial
I let him win at cards

he holds onto her
promises of a new life
falling in love

behind the glass
I see the boy
I taught to speak

batting my eye lashes
to get out of a ticket
the joy of being a woman

wedding day,
sunflowers dance
on the tip of her nose

baking with mom
she tells me
she's leaving dad.

slipper feet
quietly pad their way
to the Christmas tree

all day texting
my friend: it's okay
to miss a girl

my little brother entering
the psych ward

dad asks about mom
I break down
in the airport

family back together
arguing over
what movie to rent

late night
and an empty page
new moon

deer watching
the wind
whispers for us

inside this shell . . .
no way to
hear the ocean

thinking back
to summers
at the old bridge

my ex's best friend
my texts

late night drive
my ex and I timidly
hug goodbye

car ride back
to the millibubble
the calm before the homework

an open book
I read your heart
with pursed lips

black Friday
my brother takes pictures
of the dedicated

car ride to nowhere
everything calm
nothing planned

lazy afternoon
our shadow puppets
dance on the wall

The forgotten line
of Harry Potter

watermelon on the porch
with Grandpa. counting
cars of different color

family dinner
Dad tells that fishing story

poetry partners:
collaborated lines
n txt lingo

november wind
spreading her arms
the girl on the roof

I remember when
you were my best friend—
suicidal brother.

Christmas Day Catholic
in the back pew
for Mom

the word “aunt” before my name—
a tired toddler gets
another bite

Fuck off
Not Everyone wants to be barbie

on top of the sky
searching the lights...
“There’s home!”

icy touch
my father's smile

loosening your grip
and tightening my hold . . .
I'm losing you.

nighttime kisses
momma's girl
all grown up

old card deck
the bent card
everyone recognizes

seating the elderly
the waitress remains polite
despite the coming absence

© 2010, Randy Brooks • Millikin University
All rights returned to authors upon publication.