They laugh and call her Kit,
because she purrs when she talks
and glides when she walks.
Her skin’s so milky soft and her green eyes
mesmerizing.
But watch out!
She’s sharpening her claws
as she dreams of her nightly prowl.
She slashes precisely, wounding deeply,
and licks the incriminating evidence away.
She returns to her lair,
her green eyes penetrating through you
as though you’re not there.
They laugh and call her Kit,
but I say,
Beware!
Michigan Mary 