Wind Shield

It’s climbing up the walls,
it’s whirling up the stairway,
our breath is the only barrier left:
We’re naked in the face of fear

so we stop breathing, we close
our crystal lungs forever;
we try to shout but choke

and we’d rather not be than
wilt with this stinging pain,
and we’d rather be dead by
Your plastic sorrow
than by the lack of protection.