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Poetry by Jenne Kaivo 

Jenne lives in Seattle, Washington - or, as she puts it, "from, y'know, West a bit."



© 2006 Jenne Kaivo






A Letter Found Under A Magnet


My Dear K---,

It was a blast! The coffee
is ready for you, push the button, but don't touch the
toaster, it's broken.
Good morning. I'm sure you are now
feeling quiet. This was never my place
in the first place; I hope
you'll forgive me for leaving so early,
but I've told you already the reasons.
Now to Boston.
The place might need eggs and don't
drink the juice from the carton. I once got a shock
doing that. Mold's healthy, non-toxic
regardless (well, sometimes),
but you know how it is with taboos.
About Boston.
There you may find me at May's Place,
a beautiful restaurant I've found.
Don't read the menu they give you,
only point to the wall where the specials are listed.
The best foods are eaten that way, just by guesses.
It might have switched owners.
Oh, K---, will I meet you again?
Of course, there's the Sailor,
but you're underage.
Well, just lean on the wall, not the bar, that's legal.
Be seeing you there?
The sheets could use changing.
I love you as deep as Adonis did Venus.
On that note, I leave, but remain,
now & always, Q---R---.






the sun was shin-
in thru his fin-
gers when he dropped the yellow hand-
chief which drifted slowly down to-
ward the mud but brief-
ly as it fell it caught the wind
and billowed like a pirate's school-
ner's sail or thought itself
or lonely as a
cloud but
in the end it lan-
ded in the gut-
ter where the snow fell and became
a sleeping par-
tridge, bear or hiber-
nating beast but when the spring came it was
as you've guessed, both gone and fil-










All work is property of Jenne Kaivo.




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