No special glory attends this year
the quotidian flow of plastic, ice
without chill preserving the sweet
illusions of leaf and bloom -- here writ
in an impenetrable rose
to stab the breast, mutating
in gilt flourishes, abstracted
to pure geometric ornament
innocent of the whirling heat
that carves away. In the still
eye of clarity the rose springs
restored from its ground
bouyant in foliage, opening
petals and shy buds to a depth
invisible by reflected light
that only rays through its heart

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