GENIE IN A BOTTLE
Fearing dangerous days
I escape to myself
like chain-gang films or
the 1940s
razor wire festoons my skull;
Days are dark, yet I dream
in color
I am no grim eulogist of virtue
enemy of pleasure
I am slabbed
across a table of my own making
thoughts cordoned off
with ropes, veins
so slowly the snow melts
this little utopia
as you grant me just one
wish
I ask for my own small bottle
stoppered against invasion
a hand-blown glass
comfort is a cage
and not the other way
around
slave to magic
slave to enchantment
smooth glass
sliding along inside
the richness of night, I
fend off
a day full of fear
unwanted guest
mind imagining Other