The firemen must be asleep, hands on bellies,
helmets blaze against a falling sky; birds
hook sunset on branches, beep a warning
and I watch through the open window.
I see you comb her hair, pour water over her neck,
shoulders; a bar of soap falls from your hands,
sinks in bubbles, water and laughter. Liquid skin,
slippery moon; all slides from hands,
broken rhythm of breaths, foam turrets
hair—grooves : The crack of light,
a splash in the tub, the roar of heavy rain.
Stones roll down in mud, sandals
slip off feet, break twigs. A frog leaps
on soaked grass, drowned constellations.