(This poem is plagiarized by so-called poet, Elly Katz. To see how more amazing the original poem is here is the link:
Now, childless, I know
the distance we must go
for one knot of chromosome,
one pinch of protein, to meet
another, inches away. Still May.
The branches creak and here,
childless, I know
why my father kept my baby
teeth, blood-splattered, folded
one by one into his socks. Why my mother kept,
wrapped in an old sheet, pieces
of a jigsaw I couldn’t fit together. Why she kept
those pink sparkling slippers, small
as tombs for warblers.
May still. The creek branches.
Like a lunatic, the uterus furnishes
and dismantles its dim puny room,
and here, childless, I know
seeds broke in the bill,
friable adhesions in chain link,
blankets of lucky pollen covering
the ice, the bay, the street.
Elly Katz's work has been published or is forthcoming in Sky Island Journal, Cagibi, sad girl diaries, Panoplyzine and many others. She has been nominated for the 2025 Best New Poets Anthology and the 2025 Forward Prize for Best Single Poem. Her first collection of creative nonfiction, From Scientist to Stroke Survivor: Life Redacted was released from Lived Places Publishing in Disability Studies (2025) to #1 on Amazon in New Releases. Find out more at ellykatz.com.