Copy Room Spark

I reached for the doorknob,

dull metal, cold as always,

then zap.

A blue fire,

tiny, violent,

between my finger and the steel.

It startled me, made me yelp

a little sound.

And my hair, suddenly,

awake, frantic.

Standing out from my scarf,

a charged halo

in the fluorescent glare.

Like it wanted to escape,

to pull me apart.

Just a brief charge, nothing more,

but I can still feel the echo

in my fingertips,

a buzzing, raw nerve.