Brown Studies by Patricia Wallace Jones

Brown Studies

Five is the gathering hour,
time to pool scraps from napkin backs,
thoughts that passed slowly enough
to stuff in a pocket—
hurried impressions of an oil-slicked loon,
the words soft fear on a line alone.

Another lists catfood, Risperdal
and celery; skips a line before a reminder
to check the meaning of reverie.

Last, on the back of a sketch I made
of your laugh, only the words brief respite.

by Patricia Wallace Jones

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Editor’s Note: Some poems have such strong imagery that it seems as if I’m looking at a painting instead of reading verse. This is one of those poems.


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