Burn the city and salt the earth.
Nothing that has any worth
will stay and thrive; stretch and dry
the speckled hides of antelope
under desert sky. Let the olive orchards die.
Leave the citadel in ruins,
repent on the long walk west.
Leather ties bind wrists to oxen,
lead them lowing on unbeaten paths.
Steer them steady, away from the thorns.
© 2017 Anna-Christina Betekhtin, All Rights Reserved.