Sylvia Plath

On Looking Into The Eyes Of A Demon Lover

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.

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