so my dad started a game long ago... and then this became some sort of obsession of mine...

i come home most night
my pockets rattle with buttons
i get them at work
they cry out for liberation
through the strings
of their captors
and i, knowing their language
hearing their despair
steal them away
before sending their captors
to untimely, and painful deaths
these freed prisnors
they live in a pickle jar now
on a jacket
on flat surfaces i drop them on
on patrick's dresser
in april's car
the bottom of my purse
they feel freedom at last
because of my hands
and i leave behind me
not just a jar full
of literally thousands of buttons
but a sort of legacy
"this was grandma's button jar"
when you take one,
replace one
and the jar will never be empty