a life packed stiff as soil my namesakes became blue hills sometimes I think they are quiet birds sometimes cathedrals bleed into heaven sometimes we fly in our dreams mom teaches me to survive, but I am better at disappearing into a cloud my namesakes show me constellations are not indifferent to our pain mom teaches me to hold her hand, but I am better at holding water that sings my namesakes’ songs like caravans as they speed past
At 27, verging towards a doctorate at Harvard, Elly Katz survived what doctors surmised was unsurvivable: a brainstem stroke from a physician’s needle misplacement. Forthcoming books: creative nonfiction, From Scientist to Stroke Survivor: Life Redacted (Lived Places Publishing) & poetry, Instructions for Selling-Off Grief (Kelsay Books), both in 2025.
04/10 / Poetry Reading and Conversation with visiting poet-in-residence Chloe Martinez and local poet Ximena Gómez / The BBar at The Betsy-South Beach, Miami Beach, FL / Live and Live-Streamed on Instagram Live/Facebook Live at @swwimmiami / 7-8:30 pm EST / Free
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