Carpet Shock

Across the rug, a shuffled tread,

a hum of power in my head.

Then the doorknob, metal, cold and bright,

and a sharp, quick spark, a tiny light.

It jumped, it stung, a sudden snap,

a jolt through bone, a violent clap

of air. My hand recoiled, a frantic jerk,

the current doing its dirty work.

Now a buzz still lingers, a ghost of fire,

through fingertips that won't retire

from the feeling, that small, sharp scare.

Just a charge, hanging in the air.