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