Only pink, never pink.

What I was, what I was not,

threads are woven spells-

skirts for her, shorts for him.

Only pink, never pink-

a mother waits at the till

her sometime daughter is choosing

and the metre is running low.

She cannot have both

she will grow out of it soon

anyway.

I could choose or believe

there was a choice

to be a girl or otherwise-

'Angelina Ballerina' or 'Moonfleet'?

Dress for the plot that feeds you.

If girls stay home, wear blue

so you do not have to.

I really thought I had cracked it.

We learn to walk,

then learn to bulldoze

the shelters parents build

the paving stones they lay.

The power of no

the electric cherry fizz

each stomp a pulse

charging the engine of you.

Only pink, never pink,

these cot side battles

forged a knowing

of what I should be

then what I really

wanted.