Night

The night has cut each from each and curled the petals back from the stalk and under it in crisp rows; under at an unfaltering pace, under till the rinds break, back till each bent leaf is parted from its stalk; under at a grave pace, under till the leaves are bent back till they drop upon earth, back till they are all broken. O night, you take the petals of the roses in your hand, but leave the stark core of the rose to perish on the branch.