My Cardboard Balcony

Second Home by Belinda Roddie This is where I could be reborn - the bricks hold bones that are less fractured than mine, the drywall repelling the emotions that I've stirred in egg nog or steeped in herbal tea - hot cocoa soothes a tired body by the fire, but if the heat no longer warms you, then it's not worth basking in to begin with. Still, I could get used to this place - its roof keeps God's tears away, and that suits me just fine. All I need is a bed, a desk, and an easy chair that holds secrets in its cushions, and its skeleton has stories written across it in ink. Then I will be willing to invite a guest or two over, as long as they are okay with feeling my frozen body against theirs, while I play the phoenix and am actually reborn.

I am your father, and I love you with all my heart. I am your mother, and I brought you into this world. I am your brother, and unlike Cain, I am your keeper. I am your sister, and my stories will keep you sane. I am your nieces and nephews, your sons and your daughters. I am connected to you by blood and by your arcane human laws. I am your family, tucked away in a silver bauble. Open my bejeweled mouth from time to time, and I will sing the song of your ancestors to you.