“Five minutes, Turkish.”

Burn what you own, or
It will watch you
Do the same, you a
Candle with short flame
A waxen, sure-lit certain span
A strange-scent, glowing paraffin.
All soulless sentries most
Persistent towering tall
In acquisition loom,
Remain in apposition to
You who must go,
And will go,
You know.

© SXT 2021