We are no better than bonobos,
defining ourselves by who we screw
and how often, as if everything we are
is distilled to those few inches of skin
and what we do with it.
No nun, but as an experiment
of self and perhaps an insulation
from pain, in my 20s
I belled celibate and free of relationship,
as if snapping that thread of mutual joy
led to something better than lonely
But it didn’t, and I learned it is less
who we love than that we can at all
that is the miracle
of this being human together.