Sure, she sent those heavenly snakes
to slither into that hand-hewn crib, and
slide along that baby’s skin. And sure, she sent
those stinging insects against that cow,
turned that one girl into a bear, chained
that one dude to a fiery wheel.
Look —
We’ve all had our days. But
you try facing eternity
with thunder, with knowing
that sound will never end, with
knowing how swiftly
things catch fire. You try
living with that inside your skin,
the crackles that can never leave,
knowing that no matter how far you go,
that lightning lingers against your bones.
Knowing that any wound you take,
will never fully heal.
And, as they say —
Bitch got stuff done. Lightning hits
a bit different now. Still pounds
against the clouds, of course. Still kills
when it lands too close. But doesn’t
pierce the way it once did, or leave
half-orphans in its wake. And
those temples. You’ve seen them, right —
still gleaming over broken fields. And
her hands, a sudden gentle touch,
slicing through the sharpest pains.
Nah, I haven’t forgotten who
I’m speaking to. Don’t need to see
those scars. Bitch got stuff done —
that’s what I say. You know —
you know — oh, gods you know —
what power does to all of us.
Gonna take care of this lightning now.
(Editors’ Note: “Care for Lightning” is read by Erika Ensign on the Uncanny Magazine Podcast, Episode 62A.)
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© 2025 Mari Ness
