3rd Place : Next, Is | Miranda Cooper

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3rd Place : Next, Is | Miranda Cooper


next is

the end of our rope.
the collective
rope.
made of flesh and fleas
and flowers,
red and white and cream.

next is

the sound of worker boots on conflicted feet
trudging through an ancient forest.
can a deer look at you with anger in its eyes,
or does it just open its mouth?

next is

a fist thrown at a tired
belly. a foot on an
army
of ants. a
finger
in somebody’s
mouth. a
goddamn word for a word.

next is

the same sentence for the same people.
the same advice.
the sound of your reflection when it says,
“don’t you have anything better
to do?
don’t you know i haven’t any time?
don’t you know we write
with our left hand and choke
with our right?”

next is

a star named for your great grandmother.
god bless her soul
and god bless you
and god bless the morning star that ate her up
and spit out
her dirty old bones.

next is

too many heads
and not enough plastic bags.


Miranda Cooper has been writing poems since middle school. She is currently an English major with a creative writing emphasis at UNLV.  Cooper has lived in Vegas her whole life and is an avid skier and a musician.