Ex-Ballerina

You bring home pointe shoes
from the studio’s lost-and-found.
They were in there for weeks, you say.
They are rigid, barely broken in,
as you try to fold one in half.
The satin ribbons caress
your wrists. Do they fit? I ask.
I don’t know, you reply, taunting
the wooden toe with your fingertips
and turning it over in your hands.
They are small, like your feet,
still fitting the size-four Converse,
filthy with wear from eighth grade.
You eye the slight imperfections,
each rehearsal blemish. You bend
at the waist and the shoe slips
around your foot. No longer
a ballerina, you will call me years later
to say how you always compared yourself
to dancers with perfect form
—the shape and bend of their feet,
born for ballet. You tell
me, Now I know why I’m
always afraid I’m not enough.

*

Trish Hopkinson is a poet and advocate for the literary arts. You can find her online at SelfishPoet.com and in western Colorado where she runs the regional poetry group Rock Canyon Poets and is a board member of the International Women’s Writing Guild. Her poetry has been published in Sugar House Review, TAB: The Journal of Poetry & Poetics, and The Penn Review; and her most recent book A Godless Ascends is forthcoming from Lithic Press in March 2024. Hopkinson happily answers to labels such as atheist, feminist, and empty nester; and enjoys traveling, live music, and craft beer.