Death Returns from Holiday

This poem was influenced, not so much by Meet Joe Black as
by the earlier film Death Takes a Holiday (1934). In this
version of the story, Death tires of his job and decides
to woo the daughter of a millionaire (played by Frederic March).
While he is "on holiday" people stop dying. The terminally ill,
those horribly maimed by accidents, all continue to suffer
because they are unable to die.
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Death Returns from Holiday

        "... Nothing ever felt this good."
Marie Howe's "Death, the Last Visit"
       

I find you and you wrap your fleshy thighs
        Around my torso,
Spinning I send you around the emptiness of your room.

I'm sorry I was late, but you understand--
        Your open mouth beckons for it
The saltiest of any salty cock you've ever had.

Now that I have you, I won't ever leave,
        Even after that bitchy smell
Fills the air with that aroma which is only you.

I take you the way you always hated it
        Doggie-style, like Cerberus--three-headed,
Triphallic; and I'm lucky you're a three input kind of gal.

My tongue pries open your mouth, your tongue swells
        With lust at my insistence
Feeding my advance with your sweetest breath.

You thought no man could ever reach this deep inside--
        No man can touch your heart the way I do
Perhaps dislodge a kidney, pierce a lung or two.

A sour nipple explodes at the nearness of my touch
        Your arm twitches with residual delight
Stray neurons firing like that one last, best orgasm of the night.

There's something about that glisten in your eye that says,
        "God, forgive me." But you know I always do,
Then, thick lips pressed to your ovule mouth, I say:

        "I love you....
I'm sorry I was late. Did I make it up to you?"
        I hope so, because forever after,
A corpse, three days dead, is all that's left of you.