A small white button lies on the floor in my closet.
Which among these many clothes could have lost it?
So many untamed halves in so many colors
joined by the coming together
of a white button and a button hole just the right size
trimmed in matching thread.
Could a white button like a silver star in a dark sky
draw onlookers from all corners
complete a circle
as it passes through its specific hole?
Could a people divided
like an unbuttoned waistband,
unable to fulfill their purpose,
come together with a button and a hole?
Even if the button came loose
and lay a while on the floor,
someone might discover it, sew it back on.
Even if threads didn’t match
or the hole wasn’t quite right,
hope might linger for a little while.
link to video
Marianne Brems is the author of the full length poetry collection Stepping Stones (2024) and three chapbooks. Her poems have also appeared in literary journals including The Bluebird Word, Front Porch Review, Remington Review, and The Green Silk Journal. Favorite poets include Kay Ryan, Ellen Bass, and Naomi Shihab Nye. She lives, cycles, and swims in Northern California.
Marianne Brems is the author of the full length poetry collection Stepping Stones (2024) and three chapbooks. Her poems have also appeared in literary journals including The Bluebird Word, Front Porch Review, Remington Review, and The Green Silk Journal. Favorite poets include Kay Ryan, Ellen Bass, and Naomi Shihab Nye. She lives, cycles, and swims in Northern California.
