Primordial Modern Poem by Romella Kitchens

Primordial Modern

A Swallow's tail of light left and the
assumption of the moon.

I lay in the dark in a tiny room and wonder
about the world.
Is wisdom a presumptive or a factual assertion?

Who created racism and were they regaled or
shunned for their efforts?

How many parallel universes are there?
Is the truth of the matter man are
taught to be civil on the face of society
but beneath those ugly affectations lies
many, ugly, uncivil realities?

Once a woman told me as a Black female, I
did not need to live anywhere of much consequence
that better housing was for White families and that jobs
were for White people, not any other race.
She was heard by me but ignored.

A Swallow's tail of light and I wonder if I was
truly meant to meet Plato, Soccrates, not her.
The tiny beam of light subsides and so
does the torment, the pain and I hurry
off to sleep, to some valley
of existence within the reasonable, decoding
nature of dreams.

A feather from the Swallow's tail floats down
before all.