My Ritual Imaging
The click of the machine synchronizes cacophony
2 minutes, 3 minutes, 7 minutes
Resonant hums and whirs,
scans and camera images
I am prompted into Superman pose
– why not Superwoman?
Superwoman is standing, not prone.
Power protective.
Breast cancer. A history
in my family.
The legacy of mastectomies.
Mammograms and MRIs now annual events.
“High risk screening.
Estimated lifetime risk of breast cancer 34.6%.”
My sternum aches, breasts hang coolly
astride the divider for the scan.
Dignity intact. Remember I am human.
Results are always uncertain.
Risk is high. Tests and scans for good measure.
Good prevention. Good housekeeping.
I think of all the women, centuries of them,
bearing this mark, breasts, source of
milk, pride, pain, joy, swinging free,
running weights. Breasts, boobs,
bosom, chest, backache, heartache,
weight of uncertainty.
The notes continue.
I hear the singing of angels,
a choir of voices
behind the staccato drum of this machine
whose job it is to show the contrast.
I breathe, hum along with the noise,
meditate, surrender, those two fallen
globes containing a world in the balance.
- Caitlin Krause (February 2025)
