It rose until the ceiling kissed its black opening

But forever looking down
the ceiling wanted sky, so like an old machine
the rose revealed its contents—veil of night and all universes
with their cold instruments

So you see this is no frail rose; it tells of war;
it freezes your soul

It says to-end with vulnerability, let beauty
last into next century, monstrous armor peeling back
to new alloy immunity

Something magnified that subsumes human skin,
domesticity obscure, fully romantic—

Appearing she’s sautéed walnuts in the shell

If you heat them long enough,
you earn your place in hell