My Cardboard Balcony

Natural Disaster by Belinda Roddie How quickly the earth between us erodes, lips crumbling under duress, unable to form words or forge bonds, or kiss the bruises as if they'll heal faster. Nothing heals fully. The scars are prominent. Disfigured shadows bear the marks badly. And we are left with broken lifelines on battered palms, where fortune tellers can no longer read the joyous path of our familial futures.

Thank You, Black Voters by Belinda Roddie Best sequence of words ever: Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell.

Beat It, Bigot by Belinda Roddie The old man across the street asked for exactly eighty-five dollars and twenty-six cents for doing him "emotional harm" with the hanging of my rainbow flag. I chucked a Monopoly game board at him and told him he could take the fake money where the sun didn't shine. Then I promptly went online and ordered six more Pride-related banners to drape across the sleeping shingles of my new house. In three days, the guy would wake up to see a neon orgasm from his window.

Missing Person by Belinda Roddie Lucy went on a hike, seeking a puma to pet.

Finally! by Belinda Roddie I finally have the friend group I wanted in school.

Snow White by Belinda Roddie Snow White did not live with seven dwarves, nor did she receive a kiss from a prince. She was a raging lesbian with a pixie cut who whistled while she worked it and was definitely fair as hell in her cuffed jeans and red flannel shirt. That's the story. Eat your hearts out, Grimms. Courtesy of the huntsman. This week's prompt was provided by Arden Roddie.

No Rest For The Wicked by Belinda Roddie The insomniac had dreams, all right. And they came alive.