Poetry from Caitlyn Renee Miller

Even in the Rain


Original images by Alvimann via morgueFile

for Derek

The weather girl
gestures to the green screen
in a pink dress, and we
hunker down in our sweat
pants watching her predict
our future—it’s looking bleak.

We take the shirts off of the line
so they won’t dance.

She’s right: the clouds are turning
from mashed potatoes to dirty snow.

The sky sings, but it isn’t a love song.

And even in the rain I look
at your body and know it as part
of mine. Maybe I know you best
through the filter of a down

When it starts,
it doesn’t let up
until everything bears water.
The rain barrel spits out
more than it takes in.
Trash bobs in the street’s
tides. Every step
becomes a water-
fall. Every waterfall
bigger than the last.

We start to get the feeling
we are very small—
it doesn’t let up.

It’s raining like it will
again and again in our lives,
but so what?

You own the umbrella store.

Caitlyn Renee Miller‘s poetry and creative non-fiction have appeared online, in print, and in two anthologies. She is the author of three non-fiction books for young readers. Caitlyn lives in Salisbury, Maryland, where she works as a writer, editor, and part-time school librarian.

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