Languid slouch toward eternal 
Delicate dance across 
My ceiling 
A creature settles and aches 
Like a hound circling a corner 
Too many times 
Or my grandmother’s
Sudden burst

Of dimming sentience 
Before flatlining 

Its rigid, bristly legs 
Curl one by one 
Into petrification
In that plaster canopy
Crumbling 
Thick 
         Hard 
                  Chunks 
Congealments of hair-clad flesh 
Adhered to porcelain in bits
Scattered on the snow 

What a beautiful pool to die in, 
A ceiling 
Miles of stretch 
To soothe a hundred 
Weary eyes 
To stone