My Cardboard Balcony

I Can't Words Good by Belinda Roddie Disregard the message I left on your phone or the note I stuck on your desk back at home. I was incoherent in both. So I'll try saying, "I love you," again with kisses once you're done with work.

Everyone likes to tell me that I'm brave, and frankly, I'm wondering if they're just talking to the wrong person. I lack courage, kind of like how a desert lacks water, or space lacks oxygen. I just don't see myself as heroic or bold or daring at all. In truth, I'd rather just hide away from the world, holding in the folds of book pages and pretending that I don't exist.

I wanted my self-esteem back. I wanted control back. I wanted to harness all my pent-up anxiety like a horse and save it for later, for something more productive and less damaging. I wanted to actually love my job again, but it was so hard when I was picturing scratch marks all along the walls, and angry words directed right between my eyes, like blunt bullets. They wouldn't leave a hole or puncture, but they could certainly bruise or dent.

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?