The Hunt | A. Kaiser

3 mins read

In a country prone
to teaching royalty
above all
the hunt,
I’ll throw in my own
two centssee
if you can make heads
or tails out of it.
(This, your escape
hatch, like the one the others did
not have).
The far right here
joined at the hip
of the central right.
This far far right wants
to re-instate the glory
of the hunt.
Protect hunters from wily
deer and such. Show
how deer are not
the only hunted. Show
how trapped
in a stuffy room
numbered one to
tripping over the over
loaded room replete
with mask on the wall
as if their own laughter
weren’t enough.
They didn’t kill her
those eight not them not
her body still
walking among us still
sleeping, or trying
to, crying. Choking
out she thought that if
she put up too much
of a fight they would
do worse.
Last year, no need
to drag anyone down
a street to the crowded
room. No, last year
annual tradition.
This public party.
They decided it
consensual threw her
phone far from her
inching fingertips.
Hung so well
in effigy from a bridge
swaying those bodies left
free to go back wildly
roaming renewal
of passports or back
to work while she.
You’ll say I’m one
sided. You’ll say she’s
probably lying.
It’s February 11, 2019
and the hunt has been
announced. Eight show
one final time who’s
the hunter. Two left
breathing to serve
as a sign
that hunting season
is open is


AKaiser is the Pushcart nominated author of glint, co-winner of the inaugural Milk and Cake Press book prize ( In 2019, AK’s work placed as finalist for the Eggtooth Editions Chapbook Prize, the North American Review James Hearst Prize, and the Dogwood Journal poetry prize. Member of the Sweet Action Poetry Collective, she has contributed to its four chapbooks. Recent and forthcoming poems and photos can be found in Amsterdam Quarterly, The Broken Plate, Lavender Review, Mudfish, Quail Bell Magazine, The Rumpus, and the anthologies Conclave: Justifying the Margins and Maximum Tilt: Solstice Anthology.

Image by Sebastian Pociecha