Waiting for my Mammogram

While waiting for my mammogram,

A most annoying test,

I had a thought no poetry

Has up to now addressed.

 

About the ones whose job is

Squeezing every woman’s breast

And manipulating angles

‘Til it’s properly finessed.

 

With each mammary maneuver,

Getting patients more distressed,

She keeps kneading and adjusting,

Like a potter who’s possessed.

 

What a way to make a living!

Though it’s time that I confessed

That I feel much better getting

These reproaches off my chest.