The Genie
  by James McGrath

Today is the day
   I shall meet someone.

I shall call him shadow.

I shall recognize his face
   stolen from my mirror.

His footsteps will be filled
   with rainwater.

There will be the songs
   of Spring frogs.

There will be the drumming of thunder
   marauding with singing stones.

He will stand there,
   his feet just above the earth.

There are no footsteps behind him
   in the dust.

I will open the door of my home.
   The smell of bread baking
   will crawl across the fence
   into my garden.

If we rub the lamps of our hands together,
   a genie will appear.