or whatever we decide to name you,
little creature curled into a bundle
of fear and fur underneath an armchair
in the back room. How I wish to scoop
you into my arms and rock you like a baby,
little bug, and tell the world of your bravery
in the face of a love so unknown to you.
I wonder what you remember of all the hands
that have held you: the warmth of the house
fire, the passing between one place to another,
and the small breath you took when you sat
on my lap and refused to leave, not out
of any attachment of frozen fear, but a
statement, as if to say, I’m here to stay.