Originally published in print in October 2023.

 

He said the rain suited me 

My hair lay flat sticking to a dampened face 

His words warped my own reality of myself  

I could imagine the beautiful girl in the rain 

A vision of weather weaponizing beauty 

Raindrops caught on eyelashes for catching men 

Lips red drenched, softer than the fall of a light drizzle 

A smile lighting up the darkening clouds 

I could imagine seductive me  

But such thoughts fall away after the thinking 

The reality so impossibly far that thought goes stone cold 

and dies 

any redness of lips or fluttering of eyes 

would only be for him 

like the shower we hurried through 

I am caught 

Beauty in any form of mine is sure to radiate only for you 

If I am beautiful to you in a downpour 

Soaking, dripping rain 

It is because you made it so 

Oh, to be caught without an umbrella 

Such art I thought myself incapable of 

Your stroke proves me wrong as my colours deepen and merge  

If I am the art, then you the artist 

A regrettable amount of power 

Hidden among the easel and brush 

Would I let you shape me if you so chose? 

Or will you be my  

Critic, my visitor, my admirer? 

Shall we both take up residence in a museum  

On opposite walls, my darling 

Temporarily, for now, while the  

Exposing water bullets stay themselves  

What a vulnerable position one puts oneself in  

Oh, to be caught-to be caught– 

Without an umbrella.