How to make Love in Dangerous Times.


All times are dangerous,
Yet still we yearn to dance.
It’s little wonder why 
The peacock spider’s erotic dance
Sees it toe the line
Where the rapture of paradise 
And annihilation
Are mere millimetres apart,

Why the soldiers’ march to battle
Has a timely melody of its own,

Why music is powerful enough 
To rouse the comatose,

Why songs are sung
At funerals.

How do we make love
In dangerous times?

Why we dance, my friend,
We touch fingers
And dance unrestrained 
Through the dangerous sounds
And with our steps
We stomp despair
Deep into the ground,

Even if it’s all
But for a moment’s bliss.

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