Old Government House

The lawns of Old Government House
are immaculate;

trees erupt
fire cracker flowers.

Poverty, lewdness have been
roped off.

Beside the cream-pink façade,
a spattering of delicate mauves

well-kempt hedges
impeccable turf,

no sod turned or pissed on.
A furled flag

is discreet summation
of power

so there can be no disgrace
in theft done.

Only, by my foot, a stubbed cigarette
smoulders like one hundred and fifty years
of history,

dying scuffed to the sidewalk
down a broken manhole cover.