Sunday Afternoon

Sound asleep
she falls like rain
and bends, elbows,
buttocks, lillies,
and the curves of white thighs,
like water across
the foundation of smooth sheets
and the firmament of her bed.
Soon, her dog will retreat
from the slow rising window
to lap softly
from the palm of her foot
and cascade beside her toes
and wade alongside
through dark pools
of cool morning dreams,
wriggling with hope,
and other shining fish.