Aladdin

burnishes his
magic lamp to
inordinate brightness still

nothing surely the
damn genie out of revelations must be
coming soon laden with

goodies whole
truckloads wagontrains gift
wrapped the complete

future we are so
carefully taught to
desire his greed

impatience masked cleverly with
well faked craftsmanlike as
actor affection

true skill of
Caliban Harpo Marx our cat any
other manipulator of betters

rubbing round sensing
canned pilchards or more
precisely Cleo’s hand

semitranslucent anticipating
becoming
flowers blooming into

rusty glorious
rhyme scheme Shakespeare’s
prey

the hand she lay
so precisely moving no more than
Nile fish against current to

hold station on
the fleshy part exactly
inside of Caesar’s

overfed thigh to wait
confident in skill yet still
imperceptibly growing

annoyed it all takes that
fraction more than
anticipated

too long about its
coming the
springing up of the

rewards of power