Patrick's Poem Emergency
his head was bent down
buried in mounds
of papers stacked askew
with crumbled edges
algebraic equations
fluttering to the ground
social studies handouts
lurking between pages
as students filed out
around him since
the bell had already
rung and still he kept
his ground furiously
scribbling heart-felt
as fast as masculine
hands can move
a poem emergency
he called it when
I asked what was
the matter and we
waited patiently until
all his thoughts
were exhausted
everything preserved
safely on the paper
before he could forget
before he could lose
the exact words
Dorothy Fletcher
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