Daniel the spaniel has ears like rugs,
Teeth like prongs of electric plugs.
His back’s a thundery winter sky,
Black clouds, white clouds rumbling by.
His nose is the rubber of an old squash ball
Bounced in the rain. His tail you’d call
A chopped-off rope with a motor inside
That keeps it walloping. Red-rimmed-eyed,
He whimpers like plimsolls on a wooden floor.
When he yawns he closes a crimson door.
When he barks it’s a shark of a sound that bites
Through frosty mornings and icy nights.
When he sleeps he wheezes on a dozing lung:
Then he wakes you too with a wash of his tongue!
Kit Wright