of Buffy
brought together
in solution
the slayers of all times
& formed them into a
timeless series
gathered at once
to muse upon &
doing as they do
you and I will too
to touch this new meaning
the wounded image used,
we imagine our stories
the way ghost writers do
when what they do
is write for ghost bodies
how, in newer poetry,
timelessness moves
a timeless story along
ghost ritings
honor virtual things having
no futures & are not passing
anymore for things;
not things
they
shape the way
haunted blood flows
I loved the fiery tongue
of that final Buffy season
suddenly torched by the
wounded fate in a
divine female form
offering the bodiless fleshed
slayers to paler font; the
little minute― the many
on fire at once
made this talisman
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