The rose is obsolete
but each petal ends in
an edge, the double facet
cementing the grooved
columns of air-The edge
cuts without cutting
itself in metal or porcelain-

whither? It ends-

But if it ends
the start is begun
so that to engage roses
becomes a geometry-

Sharper, neater, more cutting
figured in majolica-
the broken plate
glazed with a rose

Somewhere the sense
makes copper roses
steel roses-

The rose carried weight of love
but love is at an end-of roses

It is at the edge of the
petal that love waits

Crisp, worked to defeat
plucked, moist, half-raised
cold, precise, touching


The place between the petal's
edge and the

From the petal's edge a line starts
that being of steel
infinitely fine, infinitely
rigid penetrates
the Milky Way
without contact-lifting
from it-neither hanging
nor pushing-

The fragility of the flower
penetrates space