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I hold myself together with vintage buttons that my mom collected at the dump.
I wanted to say something romantic— tell you that my mom travelled the world in her youth with the sole purpose of collecting vintage buttons to sow them to her wedding dress or else so that one day her youngest daughter’s guts wouldn’t spill out of her stomach whenever she felt down.

But I wanted to be honest, more. 

And just so you know,
I tried other ways, 
Before the buttons,
But tape never lasts in the rain,
So it was awkward, in the rain,
Because that’s my favorite weather, 
You know,
So I’d want to go outside 
But when the rain picked up 
and washed away
The sticky backing on the tape —
Causing it to slide down my skin and off —
I became the puddle
Children stomped in 
With ladybug rain boots 
And laughter 
And yelps 
And I couldn’t decide if I liked the feeling,
Or not. 
So I quit with tape.

And zippers always manage to pinch
That tender spot of skin
Below the ribs
Above the birthmark 
that looks like a bite mark 
On my right side.
And I was sure 
I didn’t like 
that feeling,
Because no matter how typical it became
The pinch
always caused me to gasp,
In the bad way, 
Not the good way,
But the bad way.
So I gave up on zippers,
Quickly.

I tried a million other ways 
From needle and thread
To a box full of bandaids.
But I think the buttons are working,
Best of all
For now.
It’s not a tight hold with buttons
They’re all different sizes and shapes and in between them
Bits of me still oozes out 
Through button holes 
And other places
When I get drowsy
they’re always nice to count 
And look at
And fiddle with between my fingers. 
And they never hurt to put back on.
My favorites are the tiny black ones
even though they are the least practical 
because they remind me of the inside of a tiny wildflower whose name I can’t remember and also I love the mother of pearl, because that ones my moms favorite — I think, but I might be making that up— so they make me think of how she found them,
& loved them
 — how she rescued them from someone else’s
“I don’t want you anymore” pile.. 
like she does so well.

It’s funny 
To think 
how some 
Stranger (or some neighbor)’s
 “your beauty no longer justifies the space you take up in my attic” 
jar of buttons
Have been holding my insides inside for months now, 
and it’s working.
Better 
than the time that I tried glue
Even if they do not work forever,
That is something
So I can only 
recommend.
 
xx Monique