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.