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.