ode to a dead bug

O dead bug
You lie there
Dead.

Oh! in tranquil pose expired,
In forever drying paint mired,
You're stuck to the wall.

All warm-blooded mammals were a feast.
What silken flank did your appetite sate?
What green altar, what mysterious priest
Did you manage to infuriate?

Fair insect, beneath the fluorescent lamp, thou canst not leave
To anywhere; yet, do not grieve, for your hard chitinous exoskeleton
Cannot fade, and will ever be fair.