My Cardboard Balcony

Outdoor Fun by Belinda Roddie Yes, I recommended window boxes. Full of flowers, not skulls.

Depressive Episode by Belinda Roddie We were on the bed, and you were very sad.

A Million Babies by Belinda Roddie My lord, where did all these freaking babies come from? I was never born, or forged, to be a father in any shape or mold. And here they are, all bawling, their tears dripping hot like molten gold. Just let me drink myself stupid before changing their diapers, or bottle feeding them, or singing them to sleep every night. The screeching is like owls, beckoning Macbeth to dash his brains upon castle spires. Sleep no more, o' patron of a million babies, for your dreams are insufficient for young sustenance and hiccups. Poor man, sleep no more.

Six Feet, Asshole! by Belinda Roddie Damn it, why can't my anxiety practice social distancing, too?

Personal Bubble by Belinda Roddie Here in our tiny house, we can stay isolated in a tiny space. We tell stories in hushed voices because any louder would be booming. We play board games on the floor that barely opens up to our miniature world. Our backyard includes the hills behind us - no one - no neighbors - will bother us there. When we're done with quiet shenanigans, up the scramped staircase we'll go, and we'll sleep in a loft where the heat rises - because what we need now is warmth.

Delayed Response by Belinda Roddie Caught up with my news. What's this coronavirus thing about?

I Don't Feel Well by Belinda Roddie It's too cold. It's too quiet. And my stomach hurts.