Buffy verse

The Slayer
by Jeanine Gailey

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 animé, 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 the medieval sword

hiding in my teddy-bear backback.)
And don't think it doesn't get boring, the backflips

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 for once, instead of always,
always, wearing the armor and carrying the flag.