Dave Bonta's "Another Good Question" is about how unsettling a truly good question can be. We expect questions to end in satisfaction, a warm glow like the one a firm conviction gives. Instead, the speaker finds that a good question keeps nagging, changes shape as you approach it, and never stays "round & whole." Even the polite phrase "That's a good question" feels like a dodge, a way of avoiding "I don't know."
The speaker sounds weary, wry, and a little desperate. Living with questions is compared to living with a house full of cats, which is funny but also suggests constant disturbance. The wish for uninterrupted sleep, even for numbness, feels honest. The sharpest image is the hot iron pan plunged into water, with its sudden, inhuman squeal. It suggests that escaping the questions would be violent, and that no answer could match that cry.
The prose paragraph is then reworked as a series of questions, so the poem ends up doing what it describes: it keeps asking and never settles.