In Praise
by Alan Birkelbach


She held court at night on the rocky plain
Somewhere west of Alpine

The two of us sat on lawn chairs
On the flat bed of her pickup.

The moon made a million eyes
Of the clusters of chalcedony and agate.

She said, “Other men have been out here.”
I silently pulled off her boots.

I washed her feet with cool, spring water,
Her arches, her toes, the concave of her ankles.

The sound of the water splashing on the truck bed,
On me, on her, was like a fountain.

The moon rose higher, bathed her in light.
She finally took off her hat, tilted her head back.

My eyes joined a million ancient others,
Adoring her, letting her be Queen.







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