(for Trump)
Sunbathe,
ozone baby,
till your parched skin cracks
in the white-hot flash
of radiation.
Incantation
from your pale parched lips
shall not avail;
you made this hell.
Now burn.
This was one of my early poems written around age 19. I dedicated the poem to Trump after he pulled out of the Paris accords.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem