poem: Bursts of Bianca

When you come through the door, she

is a burst

of smiles sunny afternoons giggle glitter

and deepdeep eyes deepdeep dimples

that radiate

from her

starchy

crinkled gown

She is 10

you see

the feeding tube snaking into her nose

the iv that breaks into the skin of her wrist

the twist of her fists in her sheets

But don’t feel too much just listen

because she’s trying to tell you a story

about the day she was sent to the principal’s office

for yelling at a boy who was copying her answers

a dumb boy who

(obviously)

liked her

The nurse breezes in and you

are startled but she

keeps going

she never complains

about the

chemotherapy she just

keeps going

This is not uncommon

You remind yourself

This situation?

Not so rare

Most Marshallese

can say they’ve mastered the language of cancer

Bianca doesn’t know much English

and yet she knows

what blood cells means

what bone marrow, catheter

and remission therapy means

You think about this as you stare at Bianca

Rainbows of beads budding across blanket

But today you and Bianca will not

be discussing the effects of nuclear testing

Or colonization

Or the cancers that shadow your people

Instead you will discuss the contours

Of Spongebob

You will construct paper card castles

Craft the best pudding and ketchup stew

Kaleidoscope colors across her nails

Use her blanket for a sail

You won’t talk about her aches

her untouched plate

the sunrays she can no longer seek

the funeral that chokes your dreams

and when visiting hours are over it’s

not easy

its harder than you’d think

The nuzzled kiss

The frumpled tight tight hug

The cross your heart pinky promise

You’ll be back

Yes you promise

You promise and promise her

You will

be back

And as you leave

the door clicks shut behind you

and suddenly

its harder to breathe