Rich and powerful people in medieval times admired its winter

Fur and wore it to advertise their status, mainly as trimmings

on ceremonial garments such as caps and shoulder coats.

Popes and priests popularised another myth of winter stoats:

That they would rather die than let their white pelage be stained-

A symbol of purity not very suitable for Cecilia Gallerani painted

By Leonardo da Vinci with an ermine in her arms. Ludovico Sforza

Duke of Milan was her lover when she was sixteen, but tossed her

Away to marry the love of his life, Beatrice, while she quickly

Married Count Lodovico Carminati. All this is a bit tricky

 To symbolise as purity, and as any farmer would have known

That the stoat is a formidable shagger because of its penis-bone,

Cuddling the animal may not have been unambiguously

Innocent. In any case I know it’s a killer with an unfussy

technique.. When I was nine years old, watching rabbits feeding

In the park meadow, I saw the autumn brown and white creature

Dance before its victim, climb upon its back, and bite its neck

Before disemboweling it and chewing fast. I will not forget

The rabbit’s scream. Celtic stories recognise its danger:

It is a banshee whose scream means death, whose spit is famous

As poison. If you cross its path, doff your cap and say,

Good morrow, noble lady. She moves easily between day

And night, future and present. I have seen her when walking

Fields and forests, appreciating her skill in stalking

Beasts bigger than herself, more often as I have got older.

-Is it that I am more attentive or has she become bolder?

One day soon I will feel her delicate feet on my back,

Her teeth on my neck, then feel no more of the attack.