You can’t keep wearing pink forever,
he tells her. It’s the color of baby bonnets,
stroller covers, satin bows that float down
the backs of feverish bridesmaids.
What you’re saying is unfair to me, to pink,
to the world who sees pink as a warm ocean
they are waiting to step into, where they will bury
their swords and dance the pinkest dance
under a sky filled with savages.