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Grey Sparrow Journal

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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My Breasts Are A-okay

 

My barely-B cups are not the stuff of

mammographic legend. They tend to glide

between the plates, like eager breast panini.

The glass descends, compresses, tightens; I look down

to seea truck-stop-size flesh pancake, feast

only for radiological eyes. Images rise up

and fly. First training bra, first underwire,

first halter, tube top, sundress. First male caress, first

baby’s mouth—Hold real still, she says—I am topless,

breathless, boob in a vise, and she reminds me not

to move. More flashbacks, please. My first chest press,

developing pecs that hold the girls up

high—release, You can breathe again, hee hee.

Ten minutes more to hear the score: I can keep them

another year. More gravity, a touch

of depravity before a machine feels

me up again. Firmer yes, but when I was young

my breasts had not been sung.

 

                                        ―Jill Klein


 

 

      Normal [left]versus cancerous [right] mammography image