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Dear little breast,
you were badgered and harassed
by needles and nuclear medicine,
almost ready to fall off in shame
when you only carried yourself
with dignity in the world,
You always held your head
high in underwire or lace,
trying to be graceful under pressure
or a surgeon’s knife.
Now you are resting
below steri-strips and bruises.
Your time will come again.
Copyright 2018 Carolyn Gregory