The Snap

The fleece came off with a sound like dry grass

tearing under a heavy boot. In the dark, the air

was a crowded thing, heavy and restless.

I reached for the brass handle of the door,

just wanting to pee and go back to sleep,

but the world had a jagged little sting.

A blue spark jumped, a bright needle

biting the knuckle of my index finger.

The snap rang off the closet wood,

sharp as a stapler. I stood there alone,

watching the hair on my forearm rise up

like they were trying to reach for the ceiling.