The Eiffel Tower
Jessica Bechtold
I gaze up through the monument,
emotions stirring as if I am naughtily looking up
the folds of a flowing skirt on a breezy spring day.
I note the lines of the legs and the way the lights
dance amongst the curves and crevices
as flickers of secret places appear
as I move to get a better look.
I wait in line, anxious to ride to the top
gliding up between the center
sliding up the legs across the mid section
to the first peek of romantic illumination.
A new lift carries me higher as I continue
rising up the shoulders to the eyes of the tower
exposing myself to the vista of it’s everyday.
The searchlight highlights the enfolded city
as I reach my hand out into the night to feel its life.
I place The Arc d’Triomphe upon my thumb
The Notre Dame rests on my pinky finger,
while the river below flows across my palm
filling in my love lines and age lines
as it arrives upon the Louvre
balanced in the center of my palm.
