My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie Persephone was my first and only love. Before Hades carried her off, I waited for her every day under the same olive tree, hair braided and hands folded in front of me like fresh parchment. The skin is crinkled and weathered now. I have never married. Before Hades set his eyes on her, Persephone was as in love with me as I was in love with her. We held hands and danced in the never-ending greenery of the fields. We picked flowers and wove them into each other's hair and clothes. We were like silly schoolgirls, but the passion was real, and the touches we exchanged were warm. She was an extraordinary kisser. It was like drinking sparkling wine each time her lips met with mine. I thought that perhaps, Persephone's status as the Lord of the Underworld's wife was something she resented. But in the end, it wasn't. Ultimately, her marriage made her grow up into someone entirely different, and I was left with the nostalgia, naivety, and rosy cheeks and ...

Jerry and Tabitha had been going through a rough patch, after over seventeen years of marriage. Jerry was unhappy at his job, Tabitha couldn't stand staying at home, and their efforts at having children, for what seemed like ages, had been fruitless (pun intended. Thanks, Bible). So Tabitha had gone to visit her parents, and Jerry, much to my "surprise," was crashing at my pad, drinking my beers and playing my video games once he got home from another long shift at the grocery store.

I'm not going to lie: I'm scared. I'm scared of a lot of things these days. I'm scared of my words being taken out of context. I'm scared of being falsely accused of something I didn't do. I'm scared that my attempts at showing compassion and caring will backfire tremendously, and every good intention I have is misinterpreted. I'm scared that I'll be ostracized from society. I'm scared I will never make anyone happy. I'm scared that I'm not enough. I hate being scared. But I have to keep going. I have to remind myself of how capable I am. I have to remember that I have students who appreciate me, family who appreciates me, loved ones who appreciate me. Loved ones who will protect me from harm and support me no matter what hostility is cast my way. I have to remember how much I have to offer the small world around me. I tried to remember this week, when my students presented their performance poems to the class and to me one on...

Veggie Grease by Belinda Roddie I stained my shirt with asparagus. Didn't expect that, huh?

A Cheap Red Card by Belinda Roddie A cheap red card in the shape of a heart was all that Bobby had to offer Kim at the coffee shop after a slow start to his morning shift. Somehow, on a whim, he grabbed the paper and the scissors from the back room, snipping away until he had made a proper symbol of love. Numb, he watched as Kim unfolded it. Slowly, she sipped her coffee, and Bobby's blood turned to frost in his veins. She stood up and left without another word. Bobby's eyes burned, his stomach aching, as he was bereft of any answers, whether good or bad, and the poor barista went home quite sad.

I am the reproductive offspring of artificial intelligence and a sad mother, who cradled a broken robot in her arms at the end of the world, who kissed its head and wept until the tears filled a small room, who whispered all her secrets to a processor that was no longer processing. I don't walk; I float. I run code, and I am immortal. I have not seen my mother since I emerged from her womb, fully uploaded.