Undoing Buttons, One by One
By: Haley J. Martin-Sherman
Shaky fingers struggle To unfasten the first button in vulnerability strip poker.
How long do I wait?
Is it still the third date? When do I say
my nervous system’s
calculator’s broken--
reads unsafe
in the hands
of every man
who tries to hold it?
How many cards Do I deal out At one time? Just pull the card
On the top? Emotionless clinical diagnosis--
--Poker-face.
Domestic violence.
But isn’t this dating game supposed to be fun? Dealers choice--
Want a smile? I’ll strip it down
to a joke-- The most meaningful gift
my ex-husband ever got me
was a tube of arnica oil.
If you like what you see, I can take off some more.
What's underneath’ll
shock you--
blurry details,
attacked with conditioning—
his words
on the outside,
now my thoughts
on the inside:
You deserve it.
Will it be words
or vomit
that spews next
from my mouth?
I was the one
to apologize
After he told me
he wished I would die.
Before you notice the me you know
is not the me they know
or the me she knows
With you, my attention splits,
scans micro-changes
as tone and body shift,
I’m not acting this way
out of fear of abandonment.
It’s not that you’ll leave me—
it’s that you’ll love me.
Not playing the odds,
Just counting the exits.
Watching for wildcards.
The tell in your face
when I’m not adding up.
Calculated pop quizzes,
answered already
on formulated forms,
same questions even
trusted players perform:
– Why didn’t you just call the police?
– Why did it take you so long to leave?
– How could you let him treat you that way?
– Were there any red flags?
But I don’t have the right answers.
Girls aren’t good at math.
He liked to call me a bimbo.
And remember—
I think I mentioned it earlier,
my calculator’s broken.
Sometimes, draw victim,
Sometimes, survivor.
Two sides to my hand.
Maybe one day
I won’t blame
my own fingers
for fumbling for
my own buttons.
Haley J. Martin-Sherman is a poet, professor, and the Vice President of Contests on the board of the Oregon Poetry Association. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Mills College and a Master of Arts in Teaching from Southern Oregon University. Her work explores vulnerability, feminine rage, and resilience in the aftermath of love and loss. Haley teaches writing and literature at Rogue Community College, and her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Half and One and other literary journals.