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Sharp / White

about a girl

By angela hepworthPublished 2 months ago 1 min read

My seventh grade homeroom desk

was a black, blue smear

of old messages and notes

I would keep my religion book open there

with a hand pressed down the middle,

so it wouldn’t fall closed

as it laid on the desk

of black and blue

but also white—

white, when the pretty girl next to me

would tap her long white nails

on the hard, unforgiving wood.

Her fingers

would splay across the intersection of our desks

and she would tap mindlessly on them both

like she had every right to do so.

Our teacher lingered over her desk like a hawk—

no polish, Clarita, she would spit,

I’ve told you this before.

And every time she turned her back,

Clarita with the pretty white nails

would meet my eyes and grin

like we were sharing a secret

I hadn’t agreed to hear,

and for some reason,

it made my hand tremble

in the middle of my textbook

every time

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About the Creator

angela hepworth

Hello! I’m Angela and I love writing fiction—sometimes poetry if I’m feeling frisky. I delve into the dark, the sad, the silly, the sexy, and the stupid. Come check me out!

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Comments (8)

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  • Shiny30 days ago

    I’m sorry to say I was a nail clicker lol I now think back to the hordes I accidentally annoyed. That and making a home in my desk for my piggy erasers.

  • D. J. Reddallabout a month ago


  • Muraliabout a month ago

    I don't like long nails, and I don't paint mine. They're hard to maintain, so I keep them short and clean. I like yours Poem.

  • Andrea Corwin about a month ago

    Perfect photo to go with this - such distraction her fingers were!

  • Ameer Bibiabout a month ago

    And the picture is perfect, too.

  • Ameer Bibiabout a month ago

    How perfect a class situation you created, how you absorbed the involvement of the teacher and students with colour, and finally, yourself. I loved the poem.

  • Shirley Belk2 months ago

    Angela, I loved how you brought color to this poem. And how you fearfully held on to religion. How sharp and white seem to be a bit sinister? And how Clarity might have been a bully?

  • Clarita doesn't seem to care for rules. Loved your poem!

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