Pony (4)
Pony
They could, he thought,
just tie it to
the mailbox.
But instead of the pony, they brought home
a baby sister, and when he thought he might as well go live
under the mailbox himself, they said he was
too little to sit
by the curb
and he railed
against the back yard throwing
at the bricks every single jar
from the bag his mother had taken
to the hospital–make-up–
pushing bangs back
like a tossed mane,
tears galloping
down the flanks of
cheek like sweat
on heated muscle,
understanding then
that the world was not
as he
would have it.
Why perhaps
only children sometimes have
hard times
as they grow older–
********************************
My fourth poem for April National Poetry Month–I am front-loading, I think, as my life gets pretty busy mid-week– this one for my prompt on Real Toads to write something related to horses; painting is mine. (Also, title has been changed since initially posting.)
Explore posts in the same categories: poetry, UncategorizedTags: April 2016 National Poetry Month, Growing Up poem, guess who was the baby sister poem, http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com, manicddaily, no pony tied to the mailbox poem
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ManicDDaily 
April 2, 2016 at 3:28 pm
Such anger in one so young.. the reader wonders how the parents handled the introduction of a sibling. It is certainly no easy time. And resentments can stretch over years.
April 2, 2016 at 4:12 pm
Lovely tenderness of verse 🙂
Beautifully executed.
Lots of love,
Sanaa
April 2, 2016 at 4:50 pm
I can just see him. Well done!
April 2, 2016 at 5:58 pm
Well, a baby instead of a pony. What little boy wouldn’t be disappointed? Hope he changed his mind later.
April 2, 2016 at 6:17 pm
Awww, poor guy. Such a tough experience for so many older siblings, and you’ve rendered it well. I’d want a pony, too!
April 2, 2016 at 9:44 pm
A touching story.
April 2, 2016 at 9:58 pm
I like this, K, partly because I like to follow the development of a child into a human. 🙂 Some learn to manipulate instead.
Another hard item is to learn that everything isn’t fair, it won’t be made fair, and it’s just tough. I’ve read experts say that no accepting that things aren’t fair is the underlying cause of juvenile suicides.
..
April 3, 2016 at 12:00 am
Your poems are always such a pleasure to read aloud and ponder extra meanings based on line breaks. I enjoy your work very much.
April 3, 2016 at 1:28 am
there is a tangible sense here – the boys frustration, the road ahead, the distance of the mother, palpable and he knows it already. Good to get ahead, k ~