I read Neruda on a train
in Kaohsiung,
an ode to a dictionary.
A single fragment of a blade,
plucked from Spanish offspring.

Outside, an island
moistened by ancient friendships.
A single beast,
from Taipei to Kenting.
This land of wandering strangers
and desolate cries.

Everything seems to hang together,
disciple or friend –
a foreigner or fallen hero.
An earthly victory in dark times.