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Poetry by I.B. Rad 




© 2008 I.B. Rad






Treading Water

It was sink or swim
so mostly they all swam,
some buoyant as a cork,
a few, even Olympic class;
yet now they doze,
slumping over
in row on row
of wheelchairs,
just treading water,
awaiting patiently
for some angel of mercy
to drain the pool.








All work is property of I.B. Rad.




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