Gone Hunting

Black and white image of headlights at night.Danny sucks the wet end of a cigarette, tapping his hand on the steering wheel. Wisps of Maggie’s hair whip around from the rolled-down windows. Burned cedar wafts on the wind and night stretches long beyond the oak trees lining the old country road. Occasionally, the truck bumps. When it does, the heavy body in the bed bumps too. Maggie says I love this song and turns up the volume to drown out the sound. The pale tan line around her ring finger glows under the moonlight. She takes Danny’s hand and sings, Come on baby, don’t fear the reaper…


Binx R. Perino is a queer poet from Texas pursuing their MFA at Emerson College. They lead workshops with GrubStreet and organize with the Boston chapter of the Democratic Socialists of America.Their work can be found in Cold Mountain Review, Rathalla Review, GASHER, Euphony, and elsewhere.


Photo Credit: Franklin Crawford

One Response to “Gone Hunting”

  1. J. Alexander says:

    This piece brought back a memory or two. Awesome job.

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