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.