My Cardboard Balcony

"You're going to jail," growled the warden. "You're going to stay there for a long time. You will sit in silence and solidarity in a tiny, windowless cell, cramped and unforgiving, while you mentally digest your crimes. And you will forever regret your actions as you rot." "That's all well and good," replied the prisoner-to-be, "but for stealing a pencil?"

Beasts In My Belly by Belinda Roddie Paint my innards blue so that they can be tricked into cooling down like ice in an acidic cavern. Help me roll over onto my side so that the pain feels less like knives and more like stones pressing into my soul. Brew a tea strong enough to scare away the dragons roosting on the hot coals of my stomach; their claws scrape against my intestines. I can hardly stand up for fear that they will scorch my insides with their flaming breath. Here, I see you brought me a green rubbery tablet or two. I gulp them down, and they descend like weary eyes observing the scene. When I fall asleep tonight, you will hold me as usual. You will cradle the pain against the crooks of your elbows, attempting to silence its bellows with a lullaby.

"Ready to visit the Sheridans, honey?" called Chelsea from the hallway. "Don't tell me we're going to have to watch another slideshow," groaned Sandy as she put on her jacket. "I had enough after seeing their seventh trip to Maui." "No, no," laughed Chelsea. "Just coffee and discussion. Don't worry, they haven't traveled much the past year."

Welcome To The Club by Belinda Roddie Cabernet flows like blood from a glassy open wound. We drink the nectar of the gods until the room spins like an ornate top. Stained glass faces of saints stare at us during the vertigo. Again, again, again, we are given wastebaskets to expel our sins into, liquids and solids and gases all at once. At the bar, you kissed a woman on the balcony while she kept her hair in a bun. She loosened up by the time your tongue made a heaven out of her mouth, a celestial halo hovering over both of you, clinging to mortality as the prophets looked on. Look up, look up! The city has eyes. They gaze upon you with frosty blue impartiality. Hear the fools debate and listen to their songs, all composed of gibberish and prior restraints. We were born to drink and pass out, so that the dawn feels new to us each time. The sunrise provides us with an opportunity we never imagined before. The taste of vomit is gone. We are stale shadows, while y...

I managed to break away from it all ten years ago, escaping in my father's beaten up minivan while he was sleeping at five in the morning. Was it worth it? Even now, I'm not so sure. I've worked odd jobs since I ran away - at restaurants, auto shops, retail stores, even construction sites - I'm kind of a poor man's Renaissance individual. Sometimes, I wonder if staying home and enduring my father's abuse while continuing my education would have resulted in anything better.

Back To Limerick by Belinda Roddie I miss you, Shannon - your cold kisses on rainy days made my steps lighter even in the deluge. You cast a smile my way as I sat in a bar on the quay, indulging in a pint, or two, or three. You always scurried past me as the sun began to set behind the clouds. Men in black peacoats laughed over Guinness and cigarettes. Girls wore short skirts and dark tights and tried on lipstick redder than their boyfriends' hair. University students carried hurleys and talked about the latest rugby game. I miss you, Shannon - you were always good to me, though I was not always attentive to you. The green trimmings around you suit your shape and curves. Your sisters Liffey and Lee are beautiful, too, while Corrib is your protective brother from afar, but I knew you the best of all. And I know that, if I ever could come back, you'd still recognize my face as I peered into you, even if six or seven years had floated by.

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