Romantic Love

“Slip on your rubbers first, in case you splatter. Hold the shaft tightly and thrust. It’s important to do it quickly. Be careful of slippage. Penetrating for the first time is the hardest.”
…from the Embalmer’s Handbook

Don’t delay.
She’ll rot. The look and smell
like a shot doe going to seed
on the forest floor, sprouting
toadstools, greasy and bloated.

Lay her across the kitchen
table, stripped. Her cooling body
pales like red clay under
falling snow. She fades to

Pump her out and pump
Barstow’s Special #9 in. She’s
not gone until her trunk feeds
the roots and the insects come
for the funereal feast.

A white silk teddy,
red polish, rouged lips complete
the foreplay. Dead weight carried
across the threshold ushers in
her first conjugal night.

Close her eyes, kiss her cheek.
Ardor softens the cold shoulder.
Warm again, and soft. Feel her
thigh beneath the sheet. You
hear her whisper:

“I’m yours.”

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