There are so many humorous possibilities left unexplored here that I'm uncertain whether this poem is intended as a joke or parody at all.
It seems to be an attempt at a serious poem about love/sex, simply shoehorned into the framework of a more famous poem about love/sex, on the theory that the recipe worked before. Several odd details seem to be there not for humorous incongruity or to play off the original, but simply because the author was methodically sticking to the recipe.
If I understand it correctly, N seems to be saying, "We cut down a Christmas tree together, but you died before we decorated it, so now I'm going to leave it up until it becomes a fire hazard in April, as tribute, even though my main sentiment upon your untimely demise is the crushing realization that now I have no hope of a date. In fact, I'm sorry I ever had sex with you at all, because now you've selfishly ditched me in order to go off with Death."
I think this poem would have be a lot more outrageous to telegraph the humor through my thick, logical skull. As is, I'm just saying, "Huh?"
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