Moonlight On the Curve Of A Dolphin

Moonlight On the Curve Of A Dolphin

BY ELLEN GRAHAM

 

I’m sorry that I drank so much I fell and hit the back of my head, cerise blooming on the floor and the bed and the flowery sheets. My nightshirt and the newspaper I slipped on.

I lied to the ER nurse and said I hadn’t been drinking but my sour breath, no time to brush my teeth or put on a bra.

Blood leaking everywhere, so many tiny vessels in the head. I’m sorry I made you late for work and you had to wash my side of the car. You probably wish I’d fallen face down and bashed my face and busted my teeth, my nose, my chin, my eye.

I’m sorry I staggered at the opera, for slurring when I met your parents, for tripping on the stairs.

I’m sorry I can’t remember what we watched last night.

I’m sorry I like that first taste of gin: how it makes me feel like I am looking over the water.

When we lived in St. Pete you’d match me drink for drink, it was our fun time, our cozy time, the time we waded into the Gulf in our underwear and swam during red tide and you said You are on the positive side of crazy and I said Let’s see how long we can float without using our arms and you said You’re nuts and we laughed at all the dead fish floating and I said, look the dolphins are swimming home and we got out and walked around and around and around the strip mall until we were sober then we went to the sushi bar and drank sake and vodka and had to walk home, humidity thick as a wall, smell of tar and palms, I’m sorry you’re not that guy anymore, moonlight on the curve of the dolphin.