Feel of Spandex Poem by Joan Pond

The Feel of Spandex

It’s a routine exam.
No need to get undressed,
to check arthritic joints
and all the rest which fails.
It’s getting worse,
he assails with words.
Then, his hand
runs the length of my leg,
tracing meager contours and curves.
I am vexed
and wonder,
is it me
or the feel of spandex
he desires?