Each roll contained a poem, courtesy of the Jefferson-Madison branch of the public library (which incidentally is just around the corner from St. Paul's). I was told it was "Poetry Day" at the Med Center, and I was invited to take a few rolls to patients. So I did.
What a bright, wonderful gift for people in need of seeing something other than beds, monitors and monotonous television sets.
Poems and healing. I like that.
Here's one of the poems I brought to a patient -- it came with a green ribbon around it, a perfect color for the poem inside. The poem is about baseball and dreams of being fast. Here's the poem:
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By Stanley Kunick
On my way home from school
up tribal Providence Hillwhere I could never hope to play
past the Academy ballpark
I scuffed in the drainage ditchhunting for perfect stones
among the sodden seethe of leaves
rolled out of glacial timethen sprinted lickety-
into my pitcher's hand;
split on my magic Kedsscarcely touching the ground
from a crouching start,
with my flying skin as I poured it onfor the prize of the mastery
over that stretch of road,when I flung myself down
with no one no where to deny
that on the given course
I was the world's fastest human.