"Not Leaving the House."
When Kai is born I quit going out,
hang around the kitchen make cornbread.
Let nobody in, mail is flat.
Masa lies on her side, Kai sighs, Non washes and sweeps,
we sit and watch Masa nurse and drink green tea.
Navajo turquoise beads over the bed, a peacock tail feather
at the head, a badger pelt from Nagano-ken for a mattress
under the sheet, a pot of yogurt setting
under the blankets at his feet
Masa, Kai, and Non our friend.
In the green garden light reflected in,
not leaving the house from dawn till late at night,
making a new world of ourselves around this life.