A Poem in the Margins of Leonard Cohen
All the matter aroused in the vicious delights of Night-
Those that catch the noises, stretch them to a pitch;
A pitch received as something suffering, suffering carried
Over freeways- is set against me. When on these occasions
I’m afraid I hold a pillow, talk with my mind, wait until
Morning, when- again unrestricted, uninhibited, unafraid-
I’ll wake from all the mercilessness.
S. T. Brant is a teacher from Las Vegas. Publications s in/coming from Door is a Jar, Santa Clara Review, New South, Rejection Letters, Quail Bell, Mineral, Dodging the Rain, La Piccioletta Barca, Cathexis Northwest Press, a few others. Twitter: @terriblebinth
Amethyst Review 