Stragglers
By Dave Finchett 

When I was younger
they were trim and neat.
Across my forehead they proudly lay

like two perfect rows of wheat.
They never needed cutting,
but now stragglers are always there –
great long spiders’ legs

of jutting eyebrow hair.
Somehow as my head hair thinned
they came into their own,
and sprouted like two lines of weeds

or grass that’s overgrown.
When I get old, I once thought,
I’ll be handsome and wise,
not one day have long swathes of hair

poking into my eyes.
But sure enough the invaders came,
each foot soldier with a pike;
now they are camped on eyebrow hill
and do what the hell they like.

 

 

Stragglers is an amusing poem which developed after my discovery of unwelcome eyebrow hair. Joy Bailey has interpreted this poem visually.

Stragglers by Joy Bailey