No Use For Umbrellas

Christine Flemming

Rain was our words,

as it pelted her with watery bullets,

spilling back out her mouth as

“Flood Warning” flashed across her forehead.

Her gutters filled up

and splashed tears across her cheeks.

She thundered and her lightning

singed our hair and burnt our tongues.

As we watched it pour,

our rain collected in a puddle

and limp, dripping clothes stuck to our skin.

Brushing raindrops from our shoulders,

we took off our boots

and danced in the mud.