buttons

[Manna]

buttons

spring from a shirt front
to be gulped wide-eyed
and lodge
in a lung
in a friend so steadfast
they dare not take them out

she's putting buttons in the ground
(seeds down the gullet)
to grow more button trees
that spread and clench
a magical, lifeless garden
growing famously

she'll be better by harvest
with plans for fantastic button-bean salads

[Manna]

And in case it's a riddle, the riddliness is unintended, but the answer is:

cancer

[Cate]

I wish the best for your friend Manna - I hope she enjoys many harvest button bean salads.

[Manna]

thanks, Cate. I think I'm still in denial. I like it here, in denial.

[Alan Alda]

Sorry to read about your friend.
Denial is a gift. It's okay.
Reality will come soon enough.

L

[Manna]

Thanks.
I've changed my mind about the riddliness of this. I don't mind that it's unclear. But this is the first time I have ever felt that way about a bit of my own poultry.

[Alan Alda]

Hey Manna~

It's probably because it's a reflection of you. You are in denial and so is the poem--
Again...that's okay.

L

[Sue]

I don't mind that it's unclear.

It's certainly that! If you had not given any clue as to what prompted it I would have thought you were writing about a child or perhaps a mad person - so there's tenderness in it and also fear and a sense of desperation. It touched me though, for a strange reason.

she's putting buttons in the ground

This made me sit up and take notice. My father always said that after he died he wanted his ashes to be taken to a place in Spain that he loved but I could not bring myself to do this as, from my mother's point of view - although she was generally unsentimental and saw what happened to people after death as largely irrelevant - it would have felt like taking him somewhere even further away from her than he already was. My sister disagreed I suspect, and always thought we should have done what he wanted. Anyway, when my mother herself finally died we decided, my sister and I, to visit that place together and to say goodbye to them both in our own way - in a place where we knew they had been very happy together. So what we did was, we took a button from a cardigan of my father's (which it so happened I was still wearing) and one from a cardigan that my mother had knitted and used to wear a lot. We took them to Spain and we buried them in a small deep hole in a rock by the sea (taking care to look nonchalant for the benefit of some French picnickers). I took great care to stuff little stones and sand in on top of them, so as far as I am concerned they will be there until the end of time. That's what putting buttons in the ground means to me.

[lizzytysh]

I'm moved by both your poem and your comments, and Sue's story with its own similarities. I'm sorry you and your friend are having to go through this, Manna.


~ Lizzy

[Manna]

Hey Manna~

It's probably because it's a reflection of you. You are in denial and so is the poem--
Again...that's okay.

L

I've been thinking about this, and I think it is an astute thing to say. It's a strange trick of psychology and grammar that a poem can be in denial (upon rereading this past sentence, I had a bit of a guffaw), and interesting to me that I hadn't thought of it that way - that this feature of the poem is a reflection of me.

Sue, I am glad to know that this phrase touched you. Put a gold star on it - it was a moment of grace.

I think I will change the name to Backwards Buttons, or maybe Buttons Backwards. Or maybe not. The reason for the title change would be because there is a lot in this poem that is going in the wrong direction, and I think I should warn the reader. Or maybe not.

Buttons fly off a shirt and end up in a lung. Magical, lifeless garden - geez that's creepy. Makes me think of Johnny Depp (the sexiest creepy guy in the world). Button-beans, (Legumen praepilatus), a species I made up.

And upon saying that I made up the species button bean, I had to see if I was right. Apparently, there are "button beans" in Java language, as well as on some coffee machines, but none you would use in salads.

ok. I think I'm ready to edit.

and in case you're wondering, Lizzy, nope, no alcohol today!

[Manna]

I think I like this one best like this:

Buttons

spring from a shirt front
to be gulped wide-eyed
and lodge in a lung
in a friend so steadfast
they dare not take them out.
She puts buttons in the ground
(seeds down the gullet)
to grow more button trees
that spread and clench
a magical, lifeless garden
growing famously.
She'll be better by harvest
with plans for fantastic button-bean salads.

~.~

Well, I don't know if I ever followed up on this story. It was a roller coaster ride. They had this new wonder-drug, but there's no telling if it will work for sure, she had to get sequenced, it wasn't metastasized, it was metastasized, they weren't going to operate, the metastasis wasn't so bad, but then the wonder-drug worked its wonder and they did operate. They operated about a month ago, and she seems to be all better, except that about 1/4 of her total lung capacity is gone. She's one tough babe, and she totally kicks ass.

[Casey Butler]

I think I like this one best like this:

Buttons

spring from a shirt front
to be gulped wide-eyed
and lodge in a lung
in a friend so steadfast
they dare not take them out.
She puts buttons in the ground
(seeds down the gullet)
to grow more button trees
that spread and clench
a magical, lifeless garden
growing famously.
She'll be better by harvest
with plans for fantastic button-bean salads.

~.~

Well, I don't know if I ever followed up on this story. It was a roller coaster ride. They had this new wonder-drug, but there's no telling if it will work for sure, she had to get sequenced, it wasn't metastasized, it was metastasized, they weren't going to operate, the metastasis wasn't so bad, but then the wonder-drug worked its wonder and they did operate. They operated about a month ago, and she seems to be all better, except that about 1/4 of her total lung capacity is gone. She's one tough babe, and she totally kicks ass.

The world is full of "tough" (compassionate) and "kick ass" (caring) people paying "compassionate" (tough) and "caring" (kick ass) pharmeceutical corporations and health providers to maintain a bloody system profiting from suffering and motivated only to prolong it. Meanwhile tough, kick ass people bury tough, kick ass people by the millions while compassionate and caring corporate entities spit in the face of God.

Please tell your tough, kick ass friend from me that it's all going to be okay. I guarantee it. Life is a terminal disease when you're self-aware, which proves to me that it isn't. Or rather it was proved to me that it isn't. But what do you care what's proved to me, let it be proved to you. Listen to what you dream. Listen to your thoughts when you get up. Read, listen to what you hear in your hear. Follow your toughness and kick-assness outside of the box.

What's that you say, physician heal thyself...

A very cool poem and riddle now that you've spelled it out. Really cool.

If I'd been through it, I would not have needed to trouble you to spell it out.

Casey

[Cate]

Hi Manna - I remember this poem and one about a tree touching me greatly.
I love that she's planting the buttons, there seems to be such great hope and love in that.
Maybe it doesn't make sense at the front of your head when your reading it but intrinsically it does.

I really am glad to hear that things are looking promising for you friend. I hope she has one hell of a feast on button bean salad this fall.

Cate

[Marisha]

check the spelling, you meant butter-bean salad. it's always worth using a dictionary- thye open to blonds as well as normal people.

Sisterly Greetings

Marisha

[Manna]

Oh dear, Marisha. How lovely to see you, I was just thinking of you this morning. You should never reply to a thread without reading the whole thing. It's already been explained that I was talking about -

Button-beans, (Legumen praepilatus), a species I made up.

I'm a molecular biologist, so I have this ability, you see.