My mamms
got jammed
and crammed
while grammed
this morning.
When Shorty
turns forty
Oh Lordty
it ain’t no party.
The memory
of my mammaries
getting puddled,
prodded, and pulled
sends my
epidermis into
retreat because
it ain’t no treat
knowing the
mammogram is
an annual repeat.
I need
more tissue
to sop up
the impact
of my chest
space getting
hijacked, whacked, and
smacked about by
plastic plates
trying to smash
images out.
There should be
a more pleasant
way to gram
the mamms.
Visual representation of story on @tolbert_on_medium Instagram
