The speaker is an oligarch, or speaks as one, and the poem opens with a calm, almost bored line: "I tend to business." The ordinary phrasing makes what follows more unsettling. Those "old man's hands" are described as "full of violence / as a small city," so the speaker's grip on money and power carries real harm, spread out like the streets and people of a whole town.
The last image is the strangest. "Two ices that ought to be moons" suggests something cold and lovely that has gone wrong, perhaps the speaker's eyes, perhaps something he owns or has frozen over. They sit "in a garden gone bad," a place that should have been tended and alive but has rotted. Judging by the imagery, the speaker doesn't seem to feel guilt or even much of anything. The tone is detached, almost matter-of-fact. The mood is chilly and decayed: a quiet portrait of someone whose power has soured everything around him, and who simply carries on with business.