Sewing buttons
criss and cross
all the old buttons
in filled thrifty tins
silk cut hoardings
from the old times
when scarcity gaped
at throat and wrist
at burst at breast
fingered smooth through
thread bound slits
salvaged snipped
and wasted not
all your treasured ancestry
in bone and bakelite
plastic shell and steel
the trove of your mother
or mother-in-law
passed on
a lesson as prudently pointed
as licked thread ends
and the needle dowsing
for the blood in your fingertip
Thank you, Mikaela. I remember my grandmothers' and mother's button tins. As recently as last night, I was compelled by family tradition to snip and save all the buttons off one of my work shirts, which was way past it's best, before handing the cotton leftovers over to my partner for use in the shed. The things we inherit ...
ReplyDeleteI have a box for buttons, though I am not good in keeping it, but there are some special ones in there, but my mother's was full, and I loved playing with it, but it was done quietly, the box was special. The 'needle dowsing' gives this poem such an edge. Wonderful picture, all the colours and shapes. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteThanks!
ReplyDeleteyour responses have given me todays poem!
I still have my Mum's button basket, worn with age and now used for holding special stones.(My own buttons are in a big jar, in plastic bags by colour.) When I was a kid, I loved it when I was allowed to play with the buttons. Thank you; a beautiful evocation.
ReplyDelete