Conductors

The air has gone thin and greedy,

stealing the moisture from the hall.

Every time I reach for the light,

I’m waiting for the tiny wall

of blue fire to jump my skin.

I yelped at the frozen peas today,

a snap against the freezer handle

that sent a stranger backing away.

At night, I pull the wool over my head

and listen to the dry, angry sound.

A thousand miniature lightning bolts

trying to reach the ground.