Ben Cooper

Prelude: Displacement

I can’t help but lift the birds into the air
by simply being here, and I know it. So I run

across the boards, listening to the heavy sigh of wood
buckling beneath my feet. Feathers drop and drift 

across the dawn as it slowly slips into place. Maybe
I’m just trying to forget the world I grew up in is gone,

but I can’t. I know
the hum of my line stretching 

itself taut before slackening back
into silence. I know how it feels to be stuck

between where I begin and where I am
becoming. I weave my arm through the railing 

to catch the world in small handfuls. Then I let go,
allowing the wind to leave like it always wanted.

When my line snaps to attention, I pull a fish
from the water and watch him tumble along 

the planks. I look away before his scales stop
changing color in the sun. He floats

when I throw him back, body bobbing
beneath the boards. I feel the waves darken

against the pilons, remapping themselves
toward our nothing.

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Ben Cooper is a poet studying creative writing at Salisbury University. He is the winner of the 2025 AWP Intro Journals Award and works as the Managing Editor at 149 Review. His poetry is published or forthcoming in Diode Poetry, Guernica, The Penn Review, Summerset Review, swamp pink and more.