Ballerina
︎︎︎ Shelby Hartness
︎ Feb 16, 2023
One night, on the way
to the cinema
modern air holding
the spliff.
It's not that I’m struck
in a quiet sense—
My mind rectangles
a woman.
She walks out
of an enclave
two feet off the Seine
words sit tongued under
it's like this
yellow light,
hideous.
A lover, lemons,
eloquence, abandonment—
if the room were to indicate
a bad story I’d refuse it.
Really, it’s you
I want to examine me:
Hands on
the carpet.
Step on my
fingernails.
to the cinema
modern air holding
the spliff.
It's not that I’m struck
in a quiet sense—
My mind rectangles
a woman.
She walks out
of an enclave
two feet off the Seine
words sit tongued under
it's like this
yellow light,
hideous.
A lover, lemons,
eloquence, abandonment—
if the room were to indicate
a bad story I’d refuse it.
Really, it’s you
I want to examine me:
Hands on
the carpet.
Step on my
fingernails.
Shelby Hartness is a writer and poet living in Half Moon Bay, California. Her work has appeared in The Skirt Chronicles, Silver Operation, passerby, WONDER, and Des pair quarterly, among others. More here: shelbyhartness.com
Also by Shelby: Otherwise, My Girl Is a Lawyer