Good morning friends,

This is my first poem in a series about ex-girlfriends. I love feedback, but no pressure. Feel free to send me something of yours as well! If you wanna join my poetry mailing list, shoot me an email at elliottdeline@gmail.com. Have a great day.

Gina

by Elliott DeLine

This morning I showed Christen 

Golden The Ponyboy,

A stuffed horse, made of maroon corduroy.

The outer skin is cut from women’s pants, the pocket seams visible on the right side of the pony’s bottom. 

The white stitching of the maroon pony is rough, done with an untrained hand.

The tail and mane are made of strips of fabric, the sort you’d find in a box outside for free in Ithaca, beside the local craft store. 

Brown plaid pattern and a white fabric adorned with little red flowers, green leaves, and ladybugs. 

Golden the Ponyboy’s legs do not hold his weight

So he sprawls with them spread in four directions, like a starfish, 

on the dark wood table 

where we sit. 

“Gina made him for me,” I say.

Christen laughs because I named a chicken after Gina because– well, forget it, it’s mean. 

Why be mean about ex-girlfriends anyway?

At 33, I’m only just realizing this.

I once brought Golden

To art school

Because I was proud of him.

I placed him on the table

Along with a drawing of him I had made.

That teacher told me

My work was immature

And asked wouldn’t I rather

Be a writer?

And now I sit with Golden

As I type this

And I wonder

Is Gina still alive?

I mean seriously.

She has no Facebook.

Seriously, Gina, are you out there?

Are you ok?

I heard a rumor that you 

Moved to Texas?

Really Gina, are you ok?

I really hope that you’re ok.