My Cardboard Balcony

Cocoon by Belinda Roddie They say that when, at last, I metamorphose and break free, I should be able to fly. But what if it's warm enough, safe enough, and sane enough for me to stay, without growing painful stained glass wings? Let me sleep a while longer in the bed that I have woven. I spun these blankets myself. I wove my dreams into their patterns. When the plague outside finally subsides, perhaps I will decide to rise and become beautiful again.

Extraterrestrial Hay Fever by Belinda Roddie The aliens ultimately decided not to arrive during the spring.