Boston Marathon Poem 2017

K.V. Switzer, Bib 261

Fifty
Years
Ago
When
Hopkinton
Was
Still
A
Runner’s
Pilgrimage
And
No
Delicate
Weak
Brittle
Dame
Ever
Ran
The
Boston
Marathon
K
V
Switzer
Bib
261
Of
741
Took
Off
Tradition
Mile
Zero
Snow
Rain
Cold
Bold
Mile
Four
Leather
Shoes
Shouts
Get
The
Hell
Out
Of
My
Race
And
Give
Me
Those
Numbers
Earned
On
Dark
Syracuse
Roads
Hands
Grab
Teeth
Bare
Jock
Block
Tradition
Rumpled
Curbed
Fear
Anger
Purpose
Move
Feet
Legs
Up
Mythic
Hills
Through
Streets
Over
Tracks
Round
Corners
Cross
Finish
Where
Lies
Met
Truth