Kelsey Stancliffe

When I Find Out I Have Cancer

---

I am at work and my least favorite
coworker comes to console me first.
I cry into her secondhand smoke
sweatshirt, think this is who I have
at the worst point in my life? I leave
early for the day.

When I find out I have cancer
I grab my chest, rub my collarbones,
feel that I still have edges and lines,
remind myself that I am more than
a round mass without end,
that I am a skeleton holding multitudes
of fear and undigested pieces
of chocolate croissant.

When I find out I have cancer
I question my response. Was I
sad enough? Were my tears
authentic? Why did I gasp
like that? I trust my body
so little for good reason.
My body grows disease.

When I find out I have cancer
I Google the statistics. I minimize
the screen and move on,
look again 5 minutes later.
I order pizza with my husband
I tell my friends and family.
I make cancer jokes.
I take my daughter to the trampoline
park, like I promised her I would.
To her, it’s just another Monday.
She jumps with a boy in a Spider-Man
shirt and when we leave she decides
she wants to be a cat, meowing
and asking us to pet her.
I rub her head and tell her she’s the best
kitten I could ever ask for, feel the solidness
of her toddler body under the heat of my hand
her skin sticky with smeared fruit gummies.

---

Kelsey Stancliffe is a transplant social worker living in the mountains of West Virginia. She received her MFA in poetry from Converse University and her work has been published in Olney, Oddball, and Mason Jar Press. She lives with her husband Jason, her daughter Cora, and her mean black cat named Scallops.