Kathryn Jordan
Poetry
Avium
You don’t know what’s with Marjorie, // but you almost love her as you gird your loins for a cure / worse than the disease. Imagining two years of drugs / in your still-able body that climbs hills and sings, // you can’t stop wondering how you got this thing. Yet / it must be said avium blesses you with a meaning hardly / to be believed. . .
September 2025
Poetry
My Late Breast
My late breast was a model citizen: / humble, honest, kind. She gave / to her community, always erring / on the generous side.
April 2021
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