The Form of Race

THE FORM OF RACE

purebred people, mythical, but many masquerade smiling

while their combed coat is floating and their hindquarters

sashaying in the predetermined manner.  What is the form

of race?  colorblind doesn’t work, it’s escapist and denies

and polarized won’t cut it.  macroscopic, micromagnified,

no.  we need still something more intentional, a lens that

won’t distort, some way of approaching that doesn’t steal

the essence of breathing right in front of you, of context

circumstantiating the Truth.  illusions of self righteousness

and xenophobe contortionist fear—the acrobatic clinging

to terrible notions of supremacy—are lockjawing the progress

every silent judgment is a prayer for the façade to keep standing

in its cardboardly corrugated way, replaceable, biodegradable,

industrially available, rigid but once bent remembers the bend.