WHAT IS YOUR FULL NAME?
Kathleen Anise Gorski (nee Cavanaugh). I've been called everything in the spectrum: Kath, Kat, Katie. Just don't call me Kathy.

WHAT IS YOUR BIRTHDATE AND AGE?
I was born on June 18th, 1982. That makes me thirty-five.

WHAT DO YOU DO FOR A LIVING?
I am one of the lead children's librarians for the Seattle Public Library's Central Library, though I do travel to other branches here and there as needed. I'm also the founder of a small publishing company, True North Press. If that wasn't enough, I'm also a full-time student at the University of Washington.

WHO DOES YOUR FAMILY CONSIST OF? HOW MANY SIBLINGS DO YOU HAVE?
My family consists of my husband Booker, my son James, my stepdaughter Lily, my two siblings, Kelsey and Aidan, their respective spouses and children, as well as our menagerie.

WHAT KIND OF PETS DO YOU HAVE?
I have a strawberry pit bull rescue named Antigone (meet Tiggy), Book's boxer Iago, our floofy Bernie named Ollie and a few other miscellaneous animals.

DO YOU LIVE ALONE?
Christ, no. I live with my husband, son, and the menagerie -- as well as miss Lily part-time.

WHAT IS YOUR IDEA OF PERFECT HAPPINESS?
Any good day with my family, honestly.

WHAT IS YOUR RELATIONSHIP LIKE WITH YOUR PARENTS? IF YOU DON'T HAVE ONE, EXPLAIN.
No, I don't have one. It is a very long story, and a rather uncomfortable one for me. Thanks.

WHAT DOES YOUR IDEAL WEEKEND OR DAY OFF LOOK LIKE?
A low-stress day filled with laughter, love, good food, good company, topped off with some 'mommy-daddy time' with the husband.

WHAT DO YOU REGRET MOST ABOUT YOUR TIME IN HIGH SCHOOL?
Honestly, the only thing I regret about high school is that I ever felt that it was so important. In truth, there is very little about high school that is still relevant in my life today, fifteen years later.

WHAT WORD(S) OR PHRASE(S) DO YOU OVERUSE THE MOST?
Rad and fuck pretty exclusively.

WHAT FICTIONAL CHARACTER DO YOU MOST RELATE TO AND WHY?
It depends on where I am in my life, I think. Right now, I'm identifying with Jane Eyre again. I think I relate to her in that her childhood was pretty screwed up, but she made a life for herself on her own, despite it all. She took chances and followed her own heart, instead of allowing herself to be pressured into things she didn't want or need. In the end, she realized that in order to love, you had to accept that people were flawed by nature, and that perfection can only be found in loving another. I like that a lot.

HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO DIE?
In my sleep.

    Born the first of three children, Kathleen tried her very best to be a good daughter. However, there were just some things that were beyond her control. Being a child of a combat veteran turned police leiutenant isn't an easy thing, a lesson that all the Cavanaugh children would learn the hard way. By Kath's eleventh birthday, she knew how to navigate her father's moods, to tip-toe around his temper, anticipating when the next outburst would come
    As she entered high school, her father's erratic behavior and unpredictable violence became more and more frequent. After a suspension from the Spokane Police Department, Kath begged her mother to take her and her siblings to their grandparents' house, afraid of what he might do otherwise. Ignoring her request, Mrs. Cavanaugh reassured her eldest child that everything would smooth over in a day or two.
    Three weeks before she was set to graduate from high school, Kathleen's father accused her mother (again) of having an affair with a neighbor, as well as several other men they knew. After denying it vehemently, a physical altercation ensued, resulting in Kath literally getting into the middle of it. Shielding her mother, she promised herself that this was the last time. Even as she iced her own black eye, her mother refused to press charges. Two days after her high school commencement, Kathleen said goodbye to her parents for the last time, gathering her belongings and leaving home.
    Attending Eastern Washington University on academic scholarship proved to be more difficult than she initially anticipated. Suffering from clinical depression and anxiety, Kath had trouble concentrating in class and keeping up with the coursework. Eventually she lost her scholarship, but by then she had her eyes set on the coast. After a summer working three jobs, Kathleen scraped up enough money to get her over the pass and on her way to a new life. Settling in Seattle and leaving behind the Lilac City for once and for all, Kathleen seemed to flourish and thrive. With a genuine passion for the written word, she carved a niche for herself in the local poetry scene, as well as found a retail job at Barnes & Noble. Before long, Kath had made friends and an actual life for herself. In 2009, she founded True North Press, Inc - a small publishing company run from her kitchen. Two years later found her moving to the small town of Hawthorn with friends in order to focus more on their collective poetry than trying to make ends meet.
    Today, Kath enjoys the trips to Portland, Helena and other neighboring cities to visit and write with poet friends. Settling into the landscape of Seattle, she has found a place that feels like home and, while she might tire of loaning copies of Fifty Shades of Grey to housewives at the local library (where she works as a part-time librarian - aka 'bookslave'), the city has become home. Finding her place within the Seattle Public Library, she has worked her way up the proverbial ladder, finally becoming a lead Children's librarian in August of 2015. While she maintains a tenuous relationship with her siblings, she has no plans to ever return to Spokane or her past.

Nine-Hundred Ninety-Nine Cranes
Someone once told me
over a bottle of cheap wine
That folding paper
would bring luck,
A wish for anyone
patient
enough for the task. Here I am,
a lifetime later and
no closer
To finding good fortune.
Tonight I
realize
one thing: Four leaf clovers and
paper birds
are only
symbols
Of something that is
no longer
mine.

Hue
If I am not in love,
I am but in a shade of love,
and I bloom like
sunflowers
in your smiles.

Lumière
Light me like
candles
between these
bed sheets,
your kisses
tasting of
wax and
unanswered prayers.

Sacred Heart
His flesh is my
scripture,
to be memorised and
recited
in the darkest of hours,
a litany for love
lost and
found again.
Kisses like
garnet beads,
form
rosaries
for our empty
hands,
palm to palm,
in silent
prayer.
It is his
name
I whisper,
a plea to old gods
and the new,
through chapped
lips and
desperation.
It is his voice
through which
Holy Communion
is given,
reviving the soul to
bloom
as dogwood
in spring.
Fashion my bones into
altars,
but leave me my
knees,
so that I may forever
kneel
in worship.