My Cardboard Balcony

The Happy Amateur by Belinda Roddie I like drawing, sir. I'm just not good at it. Painting by Jennings Tofel.

by Belinda Roddie Save the bees. Save the bees. Save the bees. Save the bees. Save the bees. Save the bees. Save the bees. Save the bees. I don't know what else to write today. Just save the bees. Thanks for the prompt, wifey.

Footwork by Belinda Roddie Was she a soldier, or was she a dancer? Both?

So! Turns out I had a summer cold that kicked my ass for three days. I haven't been sick for over a year and a half, so it was definitely cause for some whiplash. I did get two COVID tests, and both came back negative. Woot. Teaching in person is still tiring. I'm allowing my students to socialize and take breaks and "naps" and all that. Also bringing them food - they appreciate it, but they also tear through it so darn quickly. Got to meet some parents on Zoom, too. Also sponsoring or co-sponsoring four clubs now. Help. I'm happy to be well for my three day weekend. Gonna see some friends, spend time with my wife and feline sons, take it easy. It's all I could ask for. Have a great night and a great weekend, everyone.

Void by Belinda Roddie This is the part where I write absolutely nothing though the irony is to write nothing I used words

Safe Haven by Belinda Roddie This was supposed to be home for me. Not anymore.

Over Thy Wounds by Belinda Roddie Over thy wounds, I breathe what was once yours: all memories in cool tendrils of air, sorrows like smoke wafting through all my pores and in and out of my nostrils. The pair of us are riddled with inadequate tattoos - spider webs - leaking red and black - we bleed ink - we are ink - our plodding fate to be nothing but scribbles on the back of the hand of some god soaked in ennui, like cologne. I will kiss each broken word, assuming the shape of your fractured teeth, until your language somehow can be heard - revived - recognized - burning in my mouth. I never knew that you could be so loud.