Here are two pupils 
whose moons of black 
transform to cripples 
all who look: 

each lovely lady 
who peers inside 
take on the body 
of a toad. 

Within these mirrors 
the world inverts: 
the fond admirer’s 
burning darts 

turn back to injure 
the thrusting hand 
and inflame to danger 
the scarlet wound. 

I sought my image 
in the scorching glass, 
for what fire could damage 
a witch’s face? 

So I stared in that furnace 
where beauties char 
but found radiant Venus 
reflected there.