Go to the sea
the morning after a rainstorm,
preferably
fresh from your man's arms -
the waiwaiwa are drawn
to love-smell.
They are tiny luminous fish
and blind. You must call
the soul of your child
in the name of your ancestors;
Come to me, little fish, come
to Tamala, Tudava, come to me.
Sit in shallow water
up to your waste until the tide
pulls away from you like an exhausted lover.
You will by then
be carrying new life.
Make love that night,
and every night,
to let the little one
who chooses you know
she is one with your joy.