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