velvet soft like roses pink like peony like sweet pea except even flowers aren’t really quite exactly that shade of pink they wiggle deliberately the round noses searching the wind for sunlight for warmth for reprieve I have to pull the car over to cry the children wonder why we’ve stopped the oldest elbows the one in the middle thinks he’s clever snidely whispers something about mom getting her period and maybe I am but I weep now for blood that’s not my own I weep for babies for stolen babies and for their mothers with their mothers while my own little piglets complain that the car is getting hot I open the windows and we’ve parked next to tulips right there by the highway most are yellow or pink like bubblegum but some are lighter softer shades pink like noses
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