Olwyn Conrau: ‘Sewing on a button’
Sewing on a button
I am sewing a button onto my son’s school shirt
I don’t darn his socks, rather I replace them
like I replaced his father and he replaced me.
I thread the fine silk through polyester.
I find holes. Empty gaping spaces that were hidden.
The thread weaves through the cloth,
around the button, strangling it into position.
I repeat the stitch over and over
so it will never escape, guaranteeing extended life.
The button now sits snuggly on its home
as if it had never attempted to leave.
The holes are hastily cobwebbed but barely visible.
I have patched up the shirt just as I patched worn knees,
found lost toys, filled stomachs, removed childhood fears.
Tomorrow, another button will flee, another hole will emerge.
Purpose will seamlessly drift. Fingers will warp and fray
as clouds crawl over parched eyes and the rip in domestic fabric
stretches beyond repair.
Olwyn Conrau
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