Global Haiku • Spring 2019
Dr. Randy Brooks

Echoey Halls

by
Grace Ruddell

a cape whooshes
along with red converse shoes
little superhero

April morning
the front door
won’t lock anymore

a green lizard
stares back at me
where is your mother?

flowing brown locks
I find a strand
in my shoelace

rain clatters on the roof
warmth found
from my burrito

mild hot sauce
because I’m
hot enough

new restaurant
she spills her secrets
on the dinner table

scribbled hearts
make it harder
to let go

midnight gas station
when will the silence
stop     between us

Fairview parking lot
I sit in my silence
next to her grief

pancakes a plenty
old friends
become new again

the old bus stop
carries my wishes
home