the sofa
was woeful
fit for disposal
but my proposal
was to put a cover on it
and see if that helped a bit

the problem was Stanley
excavating constantly
(why, I’ve no idea
I’m not sure even he was clear)
and a monstrous hole was growing
and the stuffing was showing
and though there was no going
and throwing
good money after bad
especially after the bills we’d had
still we wanted to prolong
the life of a couch we hadn’t had long

so

we got this heavy cover
from somewhere or other
machine washable
as tough as possible
whose pattern wasn’t horrible
and all in all it was great
except – wait
what’s that sound?
like a giant mole shovelling underground
or a demonic miner pushing coal around
regular, rhythmic
cataclysmic
like some hectic neolithic
busy downstairs
using flint to prepare
a hairy carcase

well – d’you really have to ask us?