Numbered

Mother Superior is out again, 
I joke when my greys start to show: 
band barely an eighth of an inch, 
edge of a wimple framing forehead 
and temples. Why don't you just 
let it go, my daughters ask, instead 
of buying box dye— Platinum's trendy 
these days. The average human has 
over a hundred thousand hairs 
or hair follicles, and about five 
million over the entire body. 
I think of long-ago afternoons 
when my mother lay on the couch, 
pushed tweezers into my hands 
and asked me to pluck her strays 
while she drowsed. She'd pay me 
five centavos for every short, 
wiry one, which I lay on upholstery 
fabric like tally marks. She'd part 
my hair in the middle and clip it back 
on each side before I left for school; 
and stroked my head as she read me 
to sleep— I'd stretch like a cat. 
Even the very hairs on your head 
are numbered, says a bible verse. But 
they can also grow back, until the day 
they might begin to thin, or stop al-
together at an indefinite point in time.