Читать книгу The Audible and the Evident - Julie Hanson - Страница 13

Buttons

The sons of friends have learned to fold and snap paper

into abruptly-coming noise at my head. Oh, let them

in their red-faced rowdiness have a bit of fun at my expense,

I said to myself, what have I done so worthy of respect?

I’ve worked soil through a sieve, let it cover seeds I couldn’t see.

I’ve taken pleasure in rolling up loaves of once-risen dough.

Yesterday I spent one hour picking free a broken zipper,

then spent another hour stitching in a new one to replace it.

Arvo Pärt came on the radio; it was easy to keep going.

Once I even sized and joined by hand six graduated leaves

of gauzy fill when I might have paid little more

for manufactured shoulder pads. Less and less

does my vocabulary match that of the television selves.

Less and less do I buy what they assume I have,

not to mention what they sell. More and more they seem

to speak and reach out to one another. I remember when

the newsman sat alone and looked me in the eye.

I might as well take one of the overlarge buttons

from my great-aunt’s quilted box that even I have failed

to find a use for and strap it to my wrist for a watch.