Be still, now, and wait for the voltage to adjust. I am quietened, I tuck my legs and sit while the current traces cool blue veins upward. I know the number of rings on every fragile branch. I know both electricity and blood taste just like copper. This is what you wanted, sparking skin,charged particles radiating every pore. There are fireworks, I am told, and sometimes the neurons dance up smoke that curls a message from your nostrils. Hair like wires and mouth like a plug, a tiny glowworm lodged underneath your collarbone. Alive with its own violent impulses. You will never be invisible, you will thrill to every touch. The sparks form fleeting constellations I won’t ask you to memorize. I will expect you to wade through the milky whirlpool at my ankles. You will emit the faintest glow, a signature that will mark you in space and time. I will stay electrified, gently orbiting, even if it takes you light years to reach my center.
Nina Sudhakar is a writer, photographer and lawyer. Her work is forthcoming in The Equals Record, Stoneboat Literary Journal, and re:asian. She writes about travel and culture on her website Project One Thousand (http://www.projectonethousand.com)