My Cardboard Balcony

The East Coast Calls by Belinda Roddie The east coast calls for me, my love, for me - its shores beckon my weary feet to tread upon its cheeks, bathing in revelry, as if the salt could cure my addled head from its persistent demons. New York screams for new blood, while Rhode Island modestly requests my presence; meanwhile, Boston's seams burst for my pseudo-seamstress hands. A dream within a dream pulls me from west to east right up at least to North Carolina, where beaches' lips kiss demons roaming free along rocks that are far from Krajina. O' Gods! Must my poor soul yearn for a change when my heart's nestled in a western range?

Silence by Belinda Roddie We tell each other everything. So why can't I speak?

Whoops by Belinda Roddie Sometimes when night descends upon your home, you host a play reading and forget to write a poem.

Don't by Belinda Roddie Read the sign, people. It's very important. Just...just don't.

ACAB by Belinda Roddie Teenagers these days think they invented hating cops. That's cute.

Massage by Belinda Roddie golden light warmth and wax candles melting way too fast disturbed tension broken fast kiss my hands now I'm relaxed

Respect by Belinda Roddie Never, ever underestimate the power and resilience of Black women.