Against Race

In interest of the ruddy heifer’s lot
that chews its cud unyoked on yonder hill,
one does not raise her sister for the pot,
to stew, as if the bovine form you kill
if you eat not this one, nor offer that
to some exalted creature in the sky.
Stock of her breed is not her pound of fat!
Should pallor care if pallor waves goodbye
when all its kind’s the rainbow, and “its own”
is either one soul’s interest, or us all?
Before my species, you, I will disown
your arbitrary pigments of cabal.
My sphere is mine alone, or planet Earth.
One’s not “your kind”; the other gave all birth.