Allow yourself for once to look
into the pool of silvery you:
see how your legs rise up to meet
your thighs and hips so holding your nave
and chest — oh, grace, what makes your flesh
arouse to song the world — marred world!
Your skin, your lips, your eyes, what more?
Your wits, your heart to adore — alas!
The glass can't show what I so love,
thus your must bear my slippery song,
you, mirror girl.