The quiet half of the couple
in golf attire at the table
on the sunset terrace
of the seaside hotel
sprung to her feet and pointed
at the whale’s blow.
She dashed to greet each arriving couple,
drug them to the seawall,
poked a finger in the direction
of the whale breaching
on the curved horizon,
caused the hostess to wince,
her husband to sink
ever more deeply
into the canvas of his chair,
the crown of his head to redden.
When it disappeared into the ocean’s oblivion,
she sat down and talked like never before,
talked loudly, turning heads, talked of things
she’d never talked about, rapidly, urgently,
things that made him want her out of there,
call a doctor for chrissakes.
Just as suddenly, she stood up again,
sat down, silent, serene.