Dream Poem for Kat.

I dreamt you scratched your name into my back
Like a tattoo of sorts
Only the blood came from your nails
Instead of a needle.

Afterward I got cat scratch fever
Like an infection of sorts
Only "cat" was spelled with a K
Instead of like tabby.

Funny how dreams come to you, or to me
In the middle of the day
So you might have time to escape
by nightfall.

For the purposes of this poem

I will pretend there are no other poems
and no other poets.

My eyes are closed
and they are all gone.

The medium is mine and
no other exists

and I will pretend that perhaps
there isn't already a poem by this title.

And now that I have you
thinking this poem is stolen

I will show that it's not
as it doesn't even have a poetic title
like all the good poems have,
one that is like an impossible object, a koan
that doesn't make sense at first
such as the one in the Book Review today,
"Fifty Miles From Tomorrow."