close cousin

close cousin

monkeys die

without touch

not just the rough and tumble

of a jungle

but the comfort of contact

of touch made of love

they withdraw

circling their cage

as they rage into fade

write sad poetry

without a prime mate

they abandon themselves

too defeated even

to masturbate

quivering in isolation

they hurt themselves

empty hope dragged

like a blunt blade

the last time

someone touched me

was against my will

pinned down

nothing kind

or comforting

in that touch