Galvanized with glee
my brother slowly scuffs across the carpet
as if half-stuck while slogging through a tar pit,
finger aimed at me.
Soon he moves much faster.
I scream and run, seek refuge in the kitchen
in hopes that I can find a handy niche in
which to dodge disaster.
No. I can’t avert
it now, the prickling flash— a gnat-sized bomb
exploding. I start yelling for my mom,
wailing how it hurt.
Then a thought that at the time was new—
stings must go both ways. It stung him, too.