A treat
for Women’s Day;
manicures for all the girls.
How nice to have one’s hand
wrapped in another’s;
A drive
to the shops after
and there’s a woman
at the robots,
her baby growing on her back.
Her hands hold out
a small bowl.
Window wound down,
buffed and filed fingernails
bounce off sunlight
as coins hit plastic
with the cadence
of impotent guilt.