(for Regina Phelps)
I’m looking through the pupil of an eye.
I am relieved: the eye’s not glowing red;
No bolt of energy is set to fly
In the direction of my balding head.
I see the green of Kryptonite instead:
The Supergirl within her eye contains
The very stuff of her defeat, I’m led
To reason with my evil mutant brains.
But to destroy her I’m not taking pains.
The darkness of that pupil is to me
A universe of life while it remains
Part of my villainous reality.
It renders me one helpless evil guy—
Though she and I do not see eye to eye.