Four people there are
in total that live in my house
Even when I was little
I knew how to count

So I was dead sure that
I was not mistaken when
I counted the toothbrushes
hanging above the sink

Onetwothree from left to right
Threetwoone from right to left
I double-checked it before I might
have to learn math all over again

I've been inclined to think
that my mother's toothbrush had
sat alone in the old tarnished holder above the bathtub
even before I had the first glimpse of this world

Next to it were shampoo containers
and soap bowls and body brushes
and other daily objects you can think of that are never
in the same category as a toothbrush

It is always the first thing
the eye can spy
and the last thing
the mind can tell why

There are times when I try
to hang it onto where it should belong
And there are times when I try
to comprehend my mother's mind

But the toothbrush is always put back
into the distant holder
And my mother is always walking
away from us in an opposite direction

One evening while I was taking a shower
I stared at the lonely toothbrush and imagined
my mother brushing her teeth behind those curtains
without having to look into the mirror