Their pockets without stain garment's
gain bulk when returned from
the cleaners.
Write in mind juxtaposed Diem feeds
the wayward carps lost home.
Gavels stay hidden when voices rise
accusations sniffle souls when
traffic slows.
The market cultivates specific crops
when magicians continue to saw
U.S. in half money flows not.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem