as that rose

The rose from Friday night is sloughing,

unable to withstand the freeze of light.

The sun still smothers the petals of flames,

crinkled curling obscuring white,

so unexpected—fire and ice.

I wonder what

it is to be

as that rose,

Beautiful frozen fiery

yet, col-

lapse in

two days

stem standing

shedding petals

of skin,

spoiled embers;

beauty that degen-

erates

the instant

it is—

seen.