So. Been busy. Been tired. Coming down from going to the State Fair and from our vacation. In light of that, instead of food for the body, today I give you: food for the soul. From a wonderful collection called Becoming the Villainess by Jeannine Hall Gailey, a poem that will be especially appreciated by all you Buffy fans out there. And I know you're out there. Along with the truth.
The Slayer Asks for Time Off
It’s hard enough just trying to pick out
the miniskirt that matches my platform jellies
but as you know, the cute-as-a-button cheerleader
must also answer to the darkest demons
(if you’ve watched any anime, you know this drill
already—how I’ll prowl through corridors
looking fragile in the shadows, how the monster
grabs my ponytail from behind and I’m
knocked, momentarily, off my tiny feet
but will spring up, brandishing my medieval sword
hiding in my teddy-bear backpack.)
And don’t think it doesn’t get boring, the back flips
and the bite marks and perfectly timed execution
of one more stake through the heart. I’m tired of wiping blood
off my jeans, the adrenaline rush in graveyards.
Just once I’d like to take the night off, maybe
be the damsel in distress, instead of always,
always, wearing the armor and carrying the flag.
Reprinted with permission of the poet