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Poetry by Bob Bradshaw 

Bob lives in Redwood City, California.





© 2008 Bob Bradshaw







 Remember ninth grade biology lab?
 I watched you slowly swoon.
 I lifted you to your feet.
 You were as unsteady as a swan
 that's turned her ankle
 in dance class. 
 You gazed at me as if I had lifted you
 from a muddy well.
 I held your throbbing wrist
 as you dissected the frog.
 I thought I would play teacher
 the rest of our lives.
 I tutored you on how
 to throw a ball overhand.
 How to fix a door's latch.
 I taught you to kiss.
 But after twenty years of marriage
 nothing I do is right. 
 We fence all day, like amateurs
 with tipped swords.
 Maybe we don't draw blood
 but we wound. 















All work is copyrighted property of Bob Bradshaw.




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