NaPo 09 ~ He Finds a Special Niche for this Memory, and Chants

He Finds a Special Niche for this Memory, and Chants

Hot loft, beneath tiles
and summer sun; guardian
of pasts; keeper of gifts
wanted, unwanted, lost
and trashed. Dark loft,
lagged in glass; tufts
to cut hands, paws;
birth-cuddle squirrels
teeth cut on holes,
slates. Long loft low
space I pray please
hide these secrets,
cuddle them close
in wool glass;
hush, hush
and hide.