by Iona Mandal aged 14


Her eyes are like vessels.
Kettle drums containing the fervent pursuit
for whimpering rodents.
With a skunk-like flash of black and white,
the delight of monochrome mania,
snatching glances at potential prey.

Though stout, she is fierce.
Snout leading vibrissae in lethal action
of synaesthetic homicide.
Sight connecting smell
connecting electric touch,
paws reigning over grassland.
Each strand of stray hair,
as thick as her bloodline,
unable to be creased between fingers.

House-proud and headstrong,
her sett, spotless at sight.
No room for animalistic grime
or clumps of waste.
Holding within a century worth
of enriched anecdotes,
documented by wildlife photographers
or the odd camper at night,
the full story, remaining untold.

The Poetry Zone

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