It is that time of another year…
A tart in the mammogram changing room,
Finds her dignity hard to sustain,
For the hot rushing blush of the single boob hush,
Makes technician avert eyes for shame.
I’ve a PH and D, in destructible me,
And in time honour, graduate acceptance,
No cleavage, no grievage,
Manhandled, unsleeve-age,
We mush up the bits that remain….