THE COLLECTOR

On a wall in Neruda’s house, which hovers like a hawk
Above the town, is an embalmed, bright pink Venezuelan
Coro-coro. A black and white poem tells of the sky
Lit up by the scarlet feathers of the Caribbean.

In the trees beyond his window, where he wrote in green ink,
Sparrows play against a backdrop of multi-coloured roofs
And honeyed ocean blues. In his bar is a stuffed penguin;
A collection of beer mats. Another poem declares:

Amo las cosas locas
Locamente.

valparaiso 18.10.04