Ikmoch
As love embedded itself in Cifolta’s heart,
vengeance burned a hole in Jiralam’s.
She only saw his unflawed face
and sculpted body,
a well-baked, rakish dish,
plying her with wiles,
oozing with winning wooings
But her senses were bedazzled
by his chameleon charm,
and as his impeccable, impossible pulchritude
blended with her own,
and desirous sighs escaped their satiated lips,
Jiralam seized the amulet dangling
from his damp chest and
hurled it from the bed,
dashing the magic,
reverting, revealing
a bloated blob of malformed features
“You who shunned Ikmoch and embraced Jiralam,
know that I am he!
You who lorded your love aloofly,
taunting a lowly, lonely, homely man,
now share his bed and body!
Behold the naked truth, Cifolta,
and weep with shock and shame!”
And Cifolta clasped her own bright amulet
and cast it free from her breast,
shedding her gorgeous guise,
and a misshapen clump lay beneath Ikmoch,
her fleshy mess meshing with his own
as laughter wracked their wrinkles
And having much in common,
the lovers soon were wed,
and made many pretty children,
who bore no resemblance to their parents
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