The Flash Speaks

Whether the poem makes sense to me or not I just love the imperfection of this donkey, the colour and disproportionate body, the light gold wings…..angelic almost.

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