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She stood, tall as temper,
face looking like a monster.
Her eyes sparkled with blood
as if coming through a flood.

She bared four black canines,
passing across dreaded signs.
The face glowed, an ebony
her heart throbbed with agony.

She soon let the cutters part,
aired pent-up brewing heart. 
While the thunder yet pealed
fresh layers of anger peeled

letting a black demon loose;
slimy dark fluid began to ooze.
Tried my best to douse the fire,
but already a burst tyre.

She glared at me and heeled,
pointing a finger, she squealed.
I looked, dusk was homing fast.
As Annie growled, she gassed,

darted to the gate and fled;
doves hushed in their shed.
Yet to see a bitter barker:
A she shorter than temper.

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