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.