Saints of Electrocution

I read a short story about a woman who was hit by lightning and for the rest of her life she was able to perform small miracles. Her hands were always hot. She met a man who had also been struck, and when they made love small birds twirled from their bodies. Afterward her house smelled of charcoal and lavender, green and violet blooms crisscrossed their flesh in a factual network of iridescent trees.

I worked in a factory assembling transformers, testing them with bursts of voltage. I’d dial the juice up or down based on the number of red wires. Some were a few inches long, others a couple of feet. Sometimes one of them touched my lap or wrist. The jolt threw me off the bench. If you saw me naked, you’d see tattoos of angry angels where I was kissed and burned.