October Lightning

by Marina Lee Sable

He was alone when it happened,
hair standing on end
like the Statue of Liberty’s crown,
electrons rushing down
to meet his charged body,
a crack, then boom,
being slammed to the ground,
eyes blown, mouth stuck open,
bells ringing the smoke from his ears.

He could see the rest of his body
splattered in twitching parts
that smelled like burning wires
ten yards away.
With his head now a ball of lightning,
but strangely cognizant, he realized
that he could never be put back together.

His wife, upon finding his head
glowing like a pumpkin
that refused to turn off its lights,
took him home and cared for him
as best she could.  His only needs
were a sprinkling of water
and a quick jolt of electricity
once a day to refresh him. 
He had grown partial
to an occasional dowsing with fertilizer.

When the prying neighbors
become too much for him,
his wife took him upstairs
and placed him on a shelf
where he it up the attic
with an eerie glow
while waiting for his children
to bring him down again
for Halloween.