I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for poetry. I read this one in the current issue of Uppercase mag.
The girl who likes foxes lives in a dream
She was born with a taste for wily things
In snowy woods she wandered,
And on into Spring
Hunting a skulk of smirking tails
And listening close for teasing wails
She waited and watched for fast crimson pelts,
Looking about for fierce diamond snouts
Chasing the treeline at dawn and dusk,
She turned her soft senses to vixen musk:
Where were the creatures that glide without wings?
La volpe! La volpe!
Yellow parade of eyes that strangle and sing.