you think the Catholic girls’ school maybe skewed your sense of intimacy
tender shoots of women tangled in each other’s hair and hands
and then confusion, watching them smirk over rumours or truths
that one of their own might dare to love another
you don’t even know any boys until you’re nearly sixteen
and you don’t really get it until long after that:
you just call them sisters and tell yourself
you could never want anything more from them.
by the time you realise you are already years into love
with the man who will give you your children
and by the time you are ready he is your home and your hearth
and mail arrives with both of your names
and even though you’re happy and full of forever together
you wonder quietly if you will live your whole life never knowing
the whole sum of everything you could love.