Ode to a Beautiful Button

by Emma Ferrell
button button, who’s got the button?
buttons that intrigue
bare-back bucking with with upturned edges,
biting, grinding greys with gritty silver incisors, 
spherical, smooth, sophisticated ladies 
too pearly for pockmarks and potholes
buttons that comfort
calico, hand-made and frayed from loving fingers,  
fuzzy, freckle-faced fasteners with well-worn bald spots,  
weathered wooden two-holes from great-aunt so and sos 
hand-me-down corduroy overalls
buttons that bother 
the copper caper on your capris that can’t contain itself, 
opalescent bevels left askew, so others eschew you, 
gliding golden gals, slinking, sniggering 
at your inopportune indecency
buttons that embolden
stately, embossed beauties imparting all 
prestige and pride and red-wax stamped honor,
miscellaneous, mismatched clasps your father insists on 
filling the slits on equally miscellaneous shirts 
buttons that delight
ladybugs and ducklings, bug-eyed butterflies,
roller skates, and angel wings, 
bitty discs to whisk into bunches,   
soloists, in see-through sleeves 
like tiny sandwich bags -
when Susan Lee's doll wonders what 
yours brought for lunch, you’ll reply: 
“peanut-butter and button!”
button, who’s got the button?