I think when you finally get to know him
you’ll see that Stanley IS the poem

all the techniques he’s managed to perfect
like dramatically hanging paws for effect

and as the frantic pounding of his tail makes clear
he’s more iambic than William Shakespeare

he sneezes in threeses as loud as he pleases
assonance where his expertise is

and he’ll stare into space, and twitch when he snoozes
dreaming of tripe stick flavoured muses

and reliably one full hour before he’s fed
he’ll howl like an elegy from the book of his bed