Anita Lovelace Poet I do not know?

Mamm-Agony

I got a card in the mail
Time for more living hell
Make an appointment please
To check for breast disease

First I have to undress
This I do with great stress
Cause the robe does not fit
I am much too ample for it

Then they call me to go
Into the room, I hate so
Where they will do the test
That x-ray’s my big breast

They flop one on the cold plate
And then I have to rotate
The machine is up too high
Pinches my boob, I might cry

Then I am finally through
Boobs are sore for a day or two
Inhumane treatment this
But do it, I insist

Yearly, this we must endure
Let us all fight for a cure
Help those who will walk
Put your money behind your talk

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