In May, the flowering cherries,
with resolute extravagance,
pile layer upon layer
of pink double-petalled blossoms
along leafless branches,
filling the sky
with tutus and princesses.

Under the slow pink snowfall
mothers wheel pink pushchairs
carrying small girls in pink furry hats,
with pink rabbits clutched in pink gloves,
who later will ride pink bikes
and sleep under pink quilts,
in rooms from which
green, yellow, purple, red
and above all blue,
are expunged and deleted.

Their faces may glow pinkly
but they will never sweat,
always giggle helplessly
and wave long pink nails
at any difficult or challenging task.
This pink nirvana
with its rosy Disney turrets
requires no intellect.

And if they notice the
pink fluffy handcuffs,
complain about the pink
vacuum cleaner or the pink
extra-high heels that hurt the feet,
designed to make escape impossible,
they will be told not
to bother their tiny pink heads,
since all is for the best
in this pinkest of all possible worlds.

Here the blossom always drifts downwards;
an elegant confetti fall
in which Barbie marries her Ken
and the pinkness is all.

Ruth Aylett teaches and researches artificial intelligence and robotics at Heriot-Watt University in Edinburgh. Her poems have been widely published in magazines. She won the Hungry Hill Poets and Politics prize in 2017. 21st-Century Poetry is edited by Andy Croft, email [email protected].