My Cardboard Balcony

Look at me - I'm dressed to the nines. I'm a dapper fucking penguin, I am. Watch me waddle to the buffet and stuff my face with cheese balls and chocolates until my cheeks are sore. I hope there's music, because when I dance, I'm shimmying all over that sleek linoleum. Hate all you want, but I'm a fat tuxedo'd motherfucker who don't need no man and can crash any party like a pimped out limousine.

by Belinda Roddie Her skates were as sharp as her winged eyeliner. Her leotard sparkled more than her body glitter. As she approached the rink, she knew everyone was staring. The flags bristled among the crowds without needing wind. The colors and flashes of camera bulbs nearly blinded her. She knew the judges were somewhere, but she tried to ignore their existence. It was her third time competing as a figure skater in the Olympics - one bronze medal to her name - and she had a plan for gold. The light caught in the dark rounded top of her bun, and as she waved and struck her first pose on the ice, she waited for the music to start. Nadia Vishna was not one to be conventional. Adam Rippon and Johnny Weir had nothing on her. "Let me show you the dance of my people." And then she began to boogie. This week's prompt was provided by Amy Bernstein.

C'mon, OneWord website. Let's go back to the good old days when you were updated every day! Yeah, no prompt update, people.

Man...how is that when I only work with my students for three days, I still wind up super exhausted by the end of the week? Don't get me wrong, a lot of good stuff happened. I've been with Arden for seven Valentine's Days now (well, five in person, but you know what I mean), and I loved making her dinner that night. The yearbook's coming along nicely, despite the stress. Hearing my students' performance poems and speeches was everything I wanted it to be. And tomorrow will be nice, too. I'm getting my haircut and seeing my parents, plus I get another Monday off. But peeps...I'm really tired. I think I'ma turn in early. Have a great night and a great weekend, everyone.

My Pocket! I Mean My Pocket! by Belinda Roddie The real key to the garden is in my pants.

You know you're reaching for something too far away from you, my darling. You know you can't actually grab a star if you can't even make it to the moon. Even if you brought back a lunar lump of something celestially extraordinary, I'm not sure she'd even bat a single eyelash in your direction. Just as well - keep your fingers on the highest shelf you can touch. There are good things to snatch from there, good things to keep a hold on.

Discounted Candy by Belinda Roddie Discounted candy and roses are treats when Valentine's Day has at last ended; we buy more wine to savor as we eat, and leftovers easily digested. Come sit with me across from the TV, though we don't have to watch a single show. I'll do my best at stilted poetry while you stick to your funny videos playing on your cellphone. This weekend, we will travel northwest - mostly west - to towns we are familiar with, and we will dream in abstract shapes after the sun's sunk down into the ocean. But before we sleep, we'll indulge in our cheap, sugary sweets.