one can almost see the whole wet assemblage:
newsprint, paper towel tubes, and brushes fat
with paint. Eager work, bringing into being
that model on teacher’s desk. And the result:
the blue horse nose to nose with the fawn, one
yellow, two dappled gray, and brown everywhere.
The art center’s closed today, so there’s no matching
a particular child with the one horse whose ears perk up,
or a thick-fingered boy with the low-cheeked one.
There’s nothing but to feel the pulse from those few
pieces attentive beyond proportion, rendering
a question or something given off, as if to answer
a little wind that could stir us dobbins to life.