Global Haiku • Spring 2017
Dr. Randy Brooks

our headlights

by
Kala Keller

If I could be anywhere, it would be in my car headed towards the moon. The moon, our magistrate, moves our souls around like puppets in a box—watching us feel, experience, and explore all we do not know. She smiles on us, laughs at us in misfortune, and provides a certain light when it is convenient for her. She is in control of our emotional wavelengths, and finds vulnerability and honesty in all things. Frequently, you can find me in my car, speeding away at odd hours of the night—searching for her. I find that I write my best haiku under the moon, where I can open my body up to the power of the sky. Therefore, this collection of haiku, ruled by above, shows each moon of my life—sometimes waning, sometimes waxing. Under true headlights, you can see each dip and curve of the path in front of you, and under true moonlight, you can see each dip and curve of the path behind you . . .

Welcome to my moon. Are you coming?

the milky way
our headlights
and a full tank

          our magic
     magistrate
the moon

without a doubt
she scans the ballot
and I'm with her

you looking at me
like that
I can't hold you

he returns the call
draped over
the couch

figure eights
on her thigh
an exhale

I left your computer
on your bed
next to her name

the smell of winter
on your neck
is wrong

Crayola pencils
clack front and back
red, orange, and—yes!—
even black.

records spin
your hands
through my hair

concrete slab
my father's name
in the ground

midday drives
to visit my friends
in the cemetery

dewy grass
and a message
from the moon

in your arms
the smell of pine
and your smile

barbecue smoke
my father
kisses someone else

the wind may shake
the branch
but it will not shake
the Crow

our icy backs
frozen on the asphalt
I felt the moon