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.