Windbreak

I let the drizzle fall and form its stains.

I'll dye the rest so it can look the same.

Thinking what it would be like outside

while melted wood is running down my thighs.

And still my joints creek like weak trees

that are easily swayed by the whispering wind.

Knowing I have no time for her heavy hands

and yet I can't help but miss the moaning reprimands.