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 would 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 sweetbriar.

I guard lovemaking with a secret oath.
Transgressions such 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 honesty, to love.
In all honesty, what it is to make passionate love.