The poem pictures an autopsy or anatomy demonstration, where a woman's dead body is cut open in front of onlookers. Bonta compares the act to "the king's business," which makes it sound official, authoritative, and a little chilling, as though opening her up were a matter of power as much as science. The onlookers "see themselves" in what they find, calling it a "royal library of meat." That phrase is startling: the body becomes a grand collection of knowledge, yet it is still just flesh.
The last stanza steps back and sounds almost like a reflection on art. Entertainment, even when it goes deep, can make tragedy strangely perfect. The speaker seems uneasy with that idea, as if the audience's fascination turns her death into a show. The tone is cool and detached on the surface, which makes the mood more unsettling. Nobody in the poem seems to grieve, and the reader is left to feel what the watchers don't.