Eve as Atlas:
Whedon’s genius
Shows us strength where most
Find none.

When Buffy fell,
I cried with them
And when she rose,
So I rejoiced.
I identify myself with a character
Back from the dead.

Therapy.
In the calm room
Of cozy couches and gentle tones,
She asked me:
How are you back from the dead?
And it stopped. Me on the tracks
Of my train of thought
Derailed
Between stations
Of concern and consternation.

The romance! The romance-
She asked me what I see
In the illicit love affair.
Such passion, such devotion
Such commotion, such disdain
Hiding within the crypt
Alone inside his desperate armlock
Seeking refuge on his lips.
So physical,
When anything more
Drives me crazy
In a bad way-
Not the good way
That they do.

And when I said I am afraid
This story is finite
And I devour it hungrily.
Who will I be when it ends?

Whoever I become,
I am not alone-
She led me to
A revelation!
Others out there
Others care
And we will be a community
Back from the dead.