electric factory 

you show me a trick where you 
stick a light bulb in your mouth 
& it blares neon bright-- 
filament sputtering & sparks.
you say we're all made of electricity 
but i stick a fork in a wall socket 
& nothing happens.
my body is quiet. i try putting batteries
under my tongue. i try an extension chord.
you touch me with all your static. my hair
stands on end. 
goosebumps all over my skin.
call me a good conductor. a metal ready
for the charge. it won't thunderstorm 
again this year but i go outside anyway 
under the grayish clouds & ask to be
turned into something alive.
i have this memory of watching men
fix the wires outside my old house--
they had to lay down mats of rubber
& even with the mats they were still
getting shocked-- i could see 
the static-- miniature lightening bolts.
i feel you three rooms away.
you are the right kind of pain.
a throbbing that can't be placed.
i install a lightening rod down my back
for your to play with-- climb up & down.
who should i tell that i'm in love
with an element? 
that i love your static & nothing else.
we turn off all the lights in the house
& you ask me to hold out my arms.
great bolts leap from you to me.
we make a circuit. you feed me wires
& i bite through the copper.
the texture of rubber. how rubber
ultimately is the only thing that saves me--
the only thing between us. where does 
your body start? i grab hold of your hair
& say to myself yes this is
another human. lightening 
invites itself inside-- 
doesn't ring the door bell. electricity 
sits at the kitchen table charging 
all the utensils with sparks. 
i tell myself i love this sensation.
i tell myself i want to be
part of your mouth--
a knot of shock 
& thrumming.
i want that all over my house.
i want you in the walls
& the door knobs. 
make me feel like
i'm not an animal. 
you put the light bulb in my mouth now.
bright orange scream casting
scabbed shadows. you put one
in your mouth too.