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the hunt

that old familiar ache arrives
right on schedule as she
moves from the train
to the platform,
certain that her
perfumed wisps
have cast a
spell once
again.

and just like the ever dutiful predator
he will arise from his languor and
stroll briskly along, lagging just
far enough behind to let her
know that she is, indeed,
being chased.

run fawn.
run.

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9 thoughts on “the hunt

  1. I love how the form of the poem takes you through two portraits, and then instructions from another presence. I felt as if I were the mediator between the two.

    • Sonny says:

      she’ll be devoured like the venison she is and washed down with a decent Cab… then the hunter will rest by the fire for a night or two (maybe more if she was particularly satisfying) before he’s off to look for his next meal.

  2. ooh! such a visceral piece!… guess my question is how much does the fawn WANT to be hunted? seems to me like she’s knowingly laid a trap he can’t resist

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