This next little song also comes from living
on that poverty-stricken distant Japanese island.
It's called "Love."
It's the first time I would have dared to call a poem "Love."
And it's because I was beginning to think I could say--
see something about it.
"Women who were turned inside-out ten times over
by childbirth on the wind-washed lonely islands
lead the circle of Obon dancers through a full moon
night in August, the youngest girl last.
Women who were up since last night, scaling and cleaning
the flying fish, sing about love, over and over,
sing about love."