บท 46: Poem Part 9
She said the head was too large,
the hooves too small.
I could clean my paintbrush
but I couldn't get rid of that voice.
While they watched,
I crumpled him,
let his blue body stain my hand,
I cried when he hit the can.
She smiled. I could try again.
Maybe this is what I unfold in the dark,
deciding for the rest of my life,
that donkey was just the right size.
By: Naomi Shihab Nye
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