The Stranger in the Glass

I caught a glimpse in a parked car’s door,

a shape I hadn't seen before.

A tired person with a heavy stride,

looking for a place to duck and hide.

Then in the bathroom, under the light,

I saw the way the skin was tight

around the eyes, but soft at the jaw.

I didn't like the thing I saw.

There’s a new fold where the chin begins.

I’m collecting all these quiet sins

and wearing them like a borrowed coat.

I don't recognize the person at my throat.