On the Eve of My Thirtieth Birthday
by Matt Sutin
Tonight
I came upon
a single eyebrow hair.
Longer
Knowing more
than younger saplings
Harder
Defending against weather
of windy winter months
Uglier
Alone in its uniqueness
next to petite blissful masses
Whiter
Loss of pigment
forced out by fears of dreams no longer
Plucked
It lies discarded
but not submitting
For other soldiers will invade
those fine naïve young brown ones.
