The Weekend Before My Last Chemo, My Niece Drives 900 Miles

We had a fascinating time
at the planetarium show,
even though it wasn’t Pink Floyd.

Not everything is what you want
and that’s okay, mostly.

My niece is near thirty.
I can count on my hands
the number of times I’ve seen her.

Once in a crib, her face scratched
from her newborn nails.

Once she was in a car seat,
her mother driving by me
in the opposing lane.

Once toddling at the courthouse.

Once unexpected at my grandmother’s funeral.

Once we went to Red Lobster,
traded puns and bad jokes
while her children rolled their eyes.

Once we met on the beach to gather shells.

Once we met for pizza, just because.

In the quiet darkness
of the near empty auditorium,
the soothing voiceover
tells us our biomes
are distinctly our own,
but that even after
years apart, our bacteria
forever show a link
to where we come from.

---

Jennifer Schomburg Kanke’s work has recently appeared in New Ohio Review, Nimrod, Massachusetts Review, and Salamander. A zine about her experiences undergoing chemotherapy, Fine, Considering, is available from Rinky Dink Press.