My Cardboard Balcony

Content Warning by Belinda Roddie Spare me the confusion of my contusions. You claim I deserve the red spreading across my skin. You swerve your truck into the bushes that rise from the ground like the devil's curls. He is laughing. I am abused You are simply amused.

She wore a bracelet on each arm, both seeming to be woven from leather, with stark Celtic knot patterns. I could see a serpentine tattoo coil up to her shoulder, encircling her left elbow like a strange god's desperate grip. As she carried in another bale of hay, I had to idle my tractor and watch her. She was more than just a farm girl. She was a farm queen.