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