My Cardboard Balcony

Jewelry by Belinda Roddie I made you a tiara out of beads and lanyard string, fashioned you a popcorn necklace, and found enough ring pops to cover every single digit of both of your hands. You wore everything with pride, until the dog got a hold of the necklace and chewed loudly on the stale kernels while we laughed and set about crafting you new (inedible) jewelry.

I watch as the snakes begin to coil around the rusted sword, their tongues flickering out every once in a while and grazing the metal blade as if to taste it. The entire cathedral, besides those two reptiles, is completely desolate. Not a single artifact lies in merely one shape or piece - it is all splinters, powder, and shards. I stoop down to pick up what was once a crucifix. All I hold now is Christ's head nailed to a metal plank.