He holds the umbrella over both of their heads
As she stumbles in roseate rainlight,
Kicking her Mary Janes among the dead.
The umbrella is school-colored: red and white.
Their world history teacher had wept red tears,
So they walked home before the end of the day.
A girl resembling his sister appears,
A rictus of crimson from her ear to her ear;
The rain mottles gray flesh like carmine-stained clay.
He clasps his companion by the heft of her hips:
“Our streets will be empty by this time next year.”
The rain beats the umbrella’s skin like a snare.
He tastes blood as she presses her lips to his lips.