Black Buttons: A Poem

Black Buttons

A Poem

I love your idea of love,

like when you tore the head off Hannah's favorite doll only to ask me to sew it on again.

You love my need to please. I learned how to sew, so I could fix that raggedy doll that you threw in the trash.

A black eyed, fabric covered face in day old spaghetti.

Every argument is a shovel load of last night's supper, burying EVERY LAST STICH that we discarded and repaired.

Tonight I made tacos with ground beef, red onions, garlic, cumin and paprika.

I thought you were going to eat tonight but you said you weren't hungry.

Still, you were pleased I wrapped the meat slurry in plastic, only after it had fully cooled.

You love my common sense. You love refrigeration. You love how we watched Jeopardy.

I didn't try to answer any questions this time. You love my silence.

You hate Jeopardy.