[The chair was always a hot seat]

The chair was always a hot seat,
the mirror never making much sense
considering how loud
loading the dishwasher was.

There should not be a person involved, so there won’t be: two foxes
walking around the chair
having a sniff—one sits down.
You look good, says the upright. Many questions coming?

Not really, says the sat. But I’d beg to differ:
I wish we’d never looked.
Though I could ease into all this
and perhaps not read, but paint,

and scratch my balls. Can you hear that
anymore? Hold me. Listen.
The upright touches the sat fox.
You’re right, it says. I’d say

marvellous, but…
well… the crockery.