Turning off the neighbor’s tap
The water drips.
A minute depression
worn into the ground 
from repeated transgressions.

A metaphorical X
Signaling the exact spot
Where shame breeds 
In a child’s heart for
Just wanting a drink or a clean face. 

She looks in the mirror now
Both a world away and still right there
A woman still turning the knobs tight 
So as not to leave a mark in the porcelain bowl.
Where makeup stains look too much like dirt.