Sarah J. Den Boer's work has appeared in The Pedestal Magazine, Siren, Prick of the Spindle, blossombones, and Harpur Palate, among others. Originally from Canada, she received her M.A. in Creative Writing from the University of Illinois-Chicago in 2004, and is nearing completion of her Ph.D. through the University of South Dakota. She lives in Bozeman, Montana.

EVERYTHING SHE KNOWS, SHE LEARNS FROM LEONARD COHEN

First of all, the way to curl her toes
with the monkey and the plywood violin.
Then, her tongue pickling. Leaves her
sideways in bed, crinkled like a spider

curled up in the corner. Soon she is tossing
red lingerie on rusty hangers, storing
arsenic on her nightstand. Cutting fringes
in the wallpaper. Always his voice

is sediment, sinking, like breath
on the inside of skin. It’s the verve of it all
that gets to her. Crumple of pink
chiffon.

                  She’s naked at the typewriter.
Chain-smoking and eating only persimmons.
A bare room in a clapboard cottage. Nearby,
the Pacific knocks the shore. Froth and pan pipes.

His words strip the bark off laburnum trees
with a voice that drags through gravel
parking lots. It’s all she ever wanted. It tastes
like dust on the back of the tongue.