You could say
the girl like a doll in her last second
dangling from the doorway,
already a ghost,
was weak.
But you are you
and the girl chose to hang
as the world's ornament,
the world's warning,
the world's love.

You could say
Cleopatra's asp gleamed like Eden burning
as it snuck into her blouse,
sheer as a ghost,
selfish.
But you are you
and Cleopatra remains the queen
of a thousand miles,
a thousand rivers,
a thousand snakes.