This love turns me into a polyglot: imagine a pioneer ferocity for new stakes in the earth,
a Pythagorean triple hunger for more centered sets, with equal parts hope and salt.
That thing you do with the weathervane, nonplussed when El Niño never comes,
lateral movements, cartilage around the roughest portions, I’ve seen it.
Recall that day in April when a category four tornado destroyed my small
Maryland town: stand tall next to the fallen water tower and consider true scale.