Dad’s Nap

My father sometimes napped before supper,

lying face down like Superman flying

on our old couch in the living room,

one arm curved above his head,

the other straight back, along his side,

toes pointed down in ecstasy,

face sideways, a bit unreal.

I suppose he was tired, I don’t know,

my mother did most of the work,

maybe he played too much golf that day,

or was resting to serve her right,

like the man of steel.