The Mandarin

The Mandarin




The Mandarin




Vague and shadowy the man of stone

sat larger than life on his publicly funded throne.

Alone in his carefully coordinated chancery

he marshalled, with great industry , his time most efficiently.

Attendants, supplicant, approached with trepidation,

Entering fearfully and reverently in to the sacristy.



Occasionally, with his peers, he would squander time,

religiously rallying barb for barb, wit for wit,

sharpening both soul and intellect.

Quoting with agility well rehearsed poetry,

Wordsworth, Keats, Shakespeare and Shelley,

all dominated his assiduous memory.



He endured all with righteous impunity,

resting comfortably in his seniority,

watched his back and formed alliances politically.

Unregulated, his cigarette smoke, vanished inscrutably

Into the cold, anonymous, air-conditioning.



But, he knew too many secrets, as a Secret Keeper must

and this, somehow, led to his undoing.

His unswerving public vows of loyalty,

a misplaced trust in reciprocity.

So he removed his tie,

collected his pension,

and disappeared.