If The Donald gets his way
Lupe will no longer
clean toilets in America
working in hotels
following her husband,
Pablo, as he follows
produce ripening
on vines and trees
and in fields from
California to Alabama
picking peaches
and melons every day
week after week
during the harvest
for you and for me and
The Donald who says
if he gets his way,
Lupe and Pablo will
go back to the village
where a toilet has
yet to be seen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I guess you're not voting for T-rumpilstiltskin! America needs more Lupes and Pablos and less New Hampshire hillbillies. This evening's debates should be interesting.