At sunrise
listen for the Tinamou’s
mournful whistle,
like the sibilant warbling
of the dead
in distant latitudes,
like the withered holly
revived to the root
once it’s cut.
We need the dead
to teach us
about love
and the dearth of love.

Michael has a habit
of saying one life.
Then there’s pura vida
which Costa Ricans
use as their common idiom.
When we stop
to buy an avocado
from a guy
on the side of the road
I create a picture
with words
even as we speak
different languages
but we still transact business
because as he says,
it’s pura vida.
After all, it’s one life.
One death.
Pura Vida.