Upon reflection

she was fine, fine until
raising her eyes she caught
the eye of the other
woman, reflecting a self
she did not know, did not
recognize — the woman
she had become, the one
her son calls tragic, the one
the world by-
passes, the one
who stands clutching
her scars, but not
her lost dignity
flowing slowly out and down
the drain — she stares
at the faucet and weeps.