by Nick Gisburne
A miracle of magic burns my blood,
The strange and secret twisting of a wish,
A genie, bottled, bound and baked in mud,
Relinquished by his bodyguards, the fish.
Imprisoned, pale and paranormal, Dave
Is tiny, yet surprisingly robust.
A powerhouse of potency, his wave
Releases all my inhibitions... just.
Attracted, in a strange and subtle way,
To what his mystic mind can do for me,
I listen and, in whispers, hear him say
He longs to be a siren of the sea.
Three wishes? Not exactly. Not a thing.
My genie’s prize, his passion, is to sing.
