I read this, and I was thinking a little more about it later, and I was thinking it’s a poem. I went back and read it, and it’s not a poem, but it is poetic. I like it, and I usually hate poems.

“We let glossy-lipped, TelePrompTer women, who have Mexicans clean their homes, tell us that we should be terrified of the sunburned callous-handed, Hondurans who hate corruption enough to run for their lives.

They are sexy, fear-puppets of Baal, who quiver the liver with their statist seduction songs, while women of true substance trek countless kilometers in hopes of sacrificing their lives for their children’s’ future.

The caravan is coming.
With Sarah, Rebecca, and Leah at the lead.

The covergirl Cannanites should worry.”

-Heidi Smith