You stir with a start from some dream
asking if I want to go with you to the corner bookshop.

You talk through the things that need doing
before 2pm. 7 emails. An essay on The Heart 

of Darkness. 3 genetic screens. 2 butter & cheese
sandwiches. Without crusts. A PowerPoint on Sondheim.

No, I don’t want to brush my teeth & lace up sneakers.
& glasses to keep up with the Dalmatian & you

down Madison Avenue. It’s 4am. The dawn
curses the moon & the branches

strike their elbows in the wind. You relent,
drop your butt back onto the mattress. Make a thesis

out of the future vacation. A high in Hawaii of 90.
But that’s days away. & what about the dog

out cold, still revved up in dreams.
When we quit talking, the room fills with the gentle moans

he makes in sleep. Not barking. More like
wanting to say something. As if he’s on a stage

in front of the sovereign lord of dogs
trying to rationalize his life.

After a stroke at 27, Elly Katz discovered her poetic voice. Her poems appeared in journals, including Sky Island and The Amsterdam Review. She won first place for the 2025 Yeats Poetry Prize and was nominated for the 2025 Best New Poets Anthology and for the 2025 Forward Prize. Her memoir, From Scientist to Stroke Survivor, is an Amazon best-seller. Instructions for Selling-Off Grief, her debut poetry collection, is forthcoming (2025).