The Palace (a poem for Brazil)

Child I can’t tell you
What they’ve done to the palace

(How they tore through the artwork
That so clearly depicts the soul of my country

Yes we are also colourful on the inside.
Meanwhile from the other side of the glass

Someone wrapped up in the national flag
A so-called ‘patriot’

Takes aim at a Di Cavalcanti
Takes a piss on the jacarandá floor

Where torn portraits of former presidents
are scattered amongst pages of the constitution)

My child you know when you read a book
And the good guy wins?

Well, sometimes that is the end of a story,
Sometimes that is just the beginning.