Spirals

She worries about her outdoor
cats and all the gnats that circle
her kitchen sink that isn’t even dirty.

Rearranging furniture on her own,
just to prove to herself that she could,
is how she wound up crushed between
her carpet and the bookshelf getting
wind back in her lungs with shallow breaths.

She witnessed far too many deaths
that started early with her teacher
who had a stroke on only the third
week she’d been taking piano lessons.

The sound the keys made when she
collapsed, and her head landed on them,
rang out for several minutes since her weight
had all pressed down the loose sustain pedal.

Not knowing what to do she just waited
for her Mom to come get her and stared
up at the white ceiling that had a texture
made of tiny little spirals.