They Don’t Mind

Mossy stockings worn to the knees,
sticky snow groping these,
but she don’t seem to mind it.

Snow is solid sweat
gathering in her crevices,
but she don’t mind the wet.

He’s rooted there erect,
wobbly without any thrust;
he don’t mind the tickly touch.

Still, he’ll freeze completely
as he knows he must,
but, he don’t mind solidifying,
paralysis is trust.

Then, next season
they’ll find a reason
to free them from their lust.

Maggie Rogers & Del Water Gap. “New Song”

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