Eau de Kitsune
A pretty girl, the stink of fur: a trollop and an unwashed cur?
No: she smiles, she has her way, with men she visits day to day.
She slinks about in leaves and vines,
Comes closer to you, and she pines,
To taste of you--of humankind.
She's lovely misery.
She'll take your heart, she'll take it all.
She'll bend you to the vixen's call.
She's many faces--one and all.
That woman--Misery.
She'll twist your ankle, tease your sides,
She'll coat you thick in Renard's hide.
She'll come up softly from behind, and say with fervor:
"Mine."
Her rape, her lust, her misery,
The very last thing that you see,
It's slinking softly from her--see?
A tail, your lost humanity.