Burning Diapers

in this season of tinder                everything flames quickly
at the lick of a spark           all start the fiery dance:

the hirsute curls then, crisps                         the fatty sizzles      the plastic melts & flows           as fabric crumbles into soot      akin to the floured moths’ suit.

in this season of tinder      shall we then put to the test    this pile of a pyre answering steeple           forever seated on a barrel of *ẹ̀tù?

placed side by side
burning lumpy diapers feels more wrong,      like setting money on fire      & adding your quota to the global warmth                 and then, some.





*ẹ̀tù: [noun; Yorùbá] gunpowder.