Global Haiku • Fall 2016
Dr. Randy Brooks

A Pill Vial

by
Alexsenia Ralat

Alexsenia Ralat is a sophomore English Writing Major with a Journalism focus and a minor in Publishing and Editing. She likes writing poetry at 3 am and petting dogs. Her hobbies include, but are not limited to, writing, reading, singing, throwing herself into the void, drawing, and painting. She is currently an editor on The Decaturian staff and Editor in Chief of the Odyssey Online here at Millikin.

the puppy wags his tail
not knowing
that his owner is no more

t rex
in my uterus
it hurts

leaves fall
and I find myself
missing no one

dad offers me pizza
I tell him
what I've done

a pill vial
in the bottom of a drawer
I don't tell him at first

old socks
I laugh as I slide
across the wood floor

late night
steven universe
homework in the morning

his honeyed words
stuck to my skin
hours of scrubbing

torn photo
she tapes it back
together

the woman doesn't react
when a stranger rips off
her hijab.

an American flag flies
behind her back
she screams against injustice

stealing a smile
she puts her hands
in my pockets

cold night
I throw my blankets off
and let the chill sink in