I Guard Lovemaking With A Secret Oath Poem by Mark Heathcote

Who is she cavorting-in-the sunlight with?
Who is he dancing-in-the moonlight with?
Dullness is lovemaking without love,
love without passion is tedium
a cyanide pill kept on a low shelf
always retained within easy reach
of a poor wretched dove
who'd coo all day to oneself?

I knew what it once was to be loved
I know what it is to reach an apex.
Sing, sing ecstatically to the zeniths.
It's pure tediousness kissing dry lips
that no longer desire or care a jot.
But a heavenly snare to those that
with lust bauble to please and pleasure,
drool-moist and flower in the sweet-briar.

I guard lovemaking with a secret oath,
transgressions as these are detrimental
to one's wider health if-lovemaking
isn't love if passion isn't tinged with endless lust?
For me, each time wouldn't be a first,
it wouldn't be a burgeoning bud
this is what it is, in all honestly, to love.
In all honestly, what it is to make passionate love.