To climb this side
of a grassy knoll in platform
heels, to find relief
in the reliable
presence of a Noguchi
sculpture outdoors
in the Midwest, to not get lost
in America, is to be
this alone
on wooden planks unafraid
of those who barrel through,
of a sunset she can’t
quite see. It is to fear only
the absence
she recognizes in trees’
fluttering spiked leaves.
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