p  o  p  !
goes the
eyes   of
a
goddess
when   in
her hand
laid    the
mirror.

no    such
reflection
she    had
looked­ at,
like a still
before her
—
where  is
the pearl
complex-
ion she'd
smooth-
ened out
f     o     r
herself  ?
where  is
the   eyes
she    had
s   e   e  n
herself th
rough for
the    past
century  ?


"what is
t   h  i  s
malfun-
ction ? "

s  h  e
asked.


"it  is  the
i m a g e
of  souls,
d  e  a  r
goddess.
it  shows
n  o  n  e
but    the
t r u t h,"

said   the
y o u n g
daedalus.


the    dear
goddess
laughed.
a       mere
m o r t a l,
pondered
the  immo-
rtal,    who
d  a  r  e  s
tell        me
who i am ?

she  took  an
other     look
at   her   own
i   m   a   g   e
—
the   too   pale
skin   and   it's
monotonous
effect   on   her
bland         face
—
and           then,
she     smashed
the       imagery
of      her    own

s                            l.
   o          u