A polygamist with two or more in bed
might hyphenate his dreaming left and right,
putting them each in turn in natural plight,
and earn much leisure as they bore or bled.
Or bigamist, who steals his women’s time
and populates the world with his half-orphans,
is likewise feasible, but to his loved ones
a liar and a fugitive in crime.
But this exceeding wholesale breeding and so on
isn’t love, if it is even marriage,
or male and female in that temple where each
must find the other and together go on.
Leisure be damned, I know the human heart
will find one favorite like a sharpened dart.
Edward Wright Haile
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/zz-204-it-isn-t-love-if-it-is-even-marriage/
