A New World of Light, Jake Fisher
Maple brush sifting thick curls
awakens spiteful currents—
traveling to your fingertips—
bridging a circuit with the brass door knob—
giving your hand a quick jolt.
Birthday balloons float aimlessly,
drawn towards hairs stretching out to touch it—
caressing its rubbery friction.
Carried by a draft
that balloon bumps into Walter’s hand—
currently petting his friend’s cat—
frizzling Felix’s orange coat.
Bill tries on a wool sweater
gifted from his mother;
its coarse fibers grind
against a winter beard, gathering force.
When Bill walks into the foyer—
his fiancé is relaxing on their college sofa—
he leans in for a smooch—
Connie jumps from cackling bolts
erupting from a shaggy chin.
Debbie in Buffalo dials up Pam in Fresno—
sisters gossiping about their husbands—
while an angry nimbus at Thor’s command
punishes phone lines in a blinding spark—
converging through the landline to the chatter-bug inside—
throwing her across the room.
Startled but uninjured,
Debbie reaches out
with one hand gripped around
the rotary-style receiver, smoking
the other summoning her prized pug—
loyal Stephen sniffs singed digits—
they zap him!