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—

Magnetically drawn

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!