after the Parade

in the dying light of day,
the Padang a muddy mess,
a field made barren
white, dried sand
sprinkled across damp, brown
patches of wet soil;
spots of green peeked out.
in the background, stood
naked frames, bereft
of their dress of wooden
planked seats.
idle machines lie about,
along with marooned
army boys in their fatigues
and the haphazard fashion
of men not of this shore,
while a yellow crane, tremulously,
lifts fallen frames
onto a patient lorry.
framing them – vermillion cordon
of a million loopholes. And
a sign that announced:
Work In Progress
工作進行中.