My Cardboard Balcony

O' Poor, Doomed Sailor by Belinda Roddie Lend your ear to the sirens. If you try to speak to them, they'll drown you out. Learn to breathe bubbles if they drag you beneath the ocean's blackened foam. They'll tie your wrists and ankles together with seaweed stronger than steel. Drink their brine as if it's nectar. Their kisses will leave your lips blue and your mouth very numb. Once you get used to it, you will be fine with floating aimlessly within their cold, endless territory.

Everything in the kitchen was complete and utter chaos. Dishes were collecting in damp, dirty piles in the once pristine sink. Pans scattered on the stove top reeked of dried eggs and coconut oil. I was just trying to grab a sponge when the dog bounded across the slippery wooden floor, knocking into a counter and, of course, taking down a full bottle of vinaigrette that exploded into wet, spicy shrapnel before my eyes.

Three, Two... by Belinda Roddie My brain is a time bomb going tick tick tock, and if I blow my fuse, there's no way to make it stop.

Jessie spun a tale quickly for her parents when they demanded why she had been out so late the past night. The bruises on her arms, of course, helped boost any so-called credibility she was trying to attain, and I watched wide-eyed as her mother pulled the girl into her arms, soothing her and cooing her as she spilled her crocodile tears. Jessie had told her parents that my brother, her boyfriend, had abused her - in reality, the contusions were merely on her body because she had hit first, and Todd had fought back.

Leslie's necktie had come undone in the scuffle, so I took her to the bathroom and helped her straighten herself out. As my fingers tensed while tying the Windsor knot, I couldn't avoid the warmth that spread from my palms out to my wrists. Leslie seemed to notice it, too - her breath shortened and came out in quick, huffy bursts, and before she lost balance, she caught herself against my shoulders, her cufflinks glittering on her sleeves.

by Belinda Roddie Into the earth we dig we dig we dig to find my boy. The pit in the earth is big and big and bigger 'til we find my boy. The shovel is splintering in my fingers, and the pain is great and forever lingers, but I won't stop digging, so we dig we dig we dig to find my boy. Deep into the night, we dig we dig we dig to find my boy. My stomach is light and sick and sick and sick I feel for my boy. Two men have given up and already gone home. The third is considering leaving me alone. But we both keep digging, and we dig we dig we dig to find my boy. The reason we're digging and we dig we dig we dig to find my boy is because he fell in the pit the pit the pit - my poor, sweet boy. He was simply skipping on his merry way when a rift opened up in the soggy clay, and it stole him today, so we dig we dig we dig to find my boy. And my neck is stiff as we dig we dig we dig to find my boy. And I feel so numb in my lips my lips my lips while we find my boy. ...

I fished an apple out of the barrel in the grocery store and began to eat it before I even got to the register. I handed the bewildered cashier two dollars, told her to keep the change, and chucked the greenish-red core into the nearest bin before propping my stiff body against the nearest brick wall, sighing as the chewed fruit began to settle in my stomach like a sweet stone.