Kathryn Reilly

Appalachian Cave Spider

be not afraid of the dark
bright ones whose skins darken in the sun
for ours lightens in the darkness

evolution comes to us all

our light-bound brethren
capture irritations for you:
ticks and wasps and squitos
but we are busy too, hunting, hunting
capturing nightmares from crawling
crawling into your ears
nestling down, seeking darkness missed

in darkness soaring spinnerets
release hungriest threads
city-blocks long guarding, guarding
the light from arthropods escape

and when time taps us
spinnerets spin their shortest thread
and we wait, accepting fate
nourishing hungry bats that
they may leave the darkness
fueled for the light
hunting irritations to your kind:
the darkness protecting the light

but our darkness grows warmer by degrees,
our cave drier, angering evolution
for her gifts enable us to thrive
here, in this cave, ours
and like forgotten gods in halls long crumbled
extinction whirls soft as our silks

White Trout Lily Lessons

be confident in your arrival
know that queens depend upon you
encourage others into your space
adorn yourself with speckled beauty
work to help your colony thrive
understand strength enables delicate natures
cherish simplicity
be content with a single leaf
celebrate uniqueness
grow to the sky, but acknowledge your roots
stabilize paths that others may follow
cast your gaze forever downward: rich earth is the treasure you seek

the witch grannies

as urbanization moved up the old mountain
the witch granny ghosts moved down
woken by forest’s great fear
wildly thrumming, thrumming

before, ancient trees protected Eostre’s beloved
from feathered death soaring high
while bloom-heavy mountain laurels
and rhododendrons conspired with berries
and green briars to shelter cottontails below

now, monoculture reigned and the
Appalachian cottontail, statue-still, prayed
for cover, any cover to save her
from talons and teeth and hands

so woke the witch grannies
whirling, twirling, rampaging down
roused to protect the land’s treasure
and they circled the mother, swirling sun’s rays
just so and the camouflaged cottontail
hopped, hopped, running up, up, up
safe again among the coniferous trees

yet she hungered
and so the witch grannies blessed the land
and blueberry bushes unfurled in the light
rubbing the black spot between soft ears
the grannies hoped her single year of life
would be free from human curse

cottontail, poor cottontail, couldn’t
outbreed humanity

whirling, twirling towards a sora whinnying for a mate
the grannies grumbled
busy much more in death
than they ever had been during life

Appalachian Tragedy

prologue: an ancient mountain army
croaks of impending disaster:
but now only knots remain
their voices soften then disappear

humans encroach: do not approach
reek, reek, reek the Chorus recounts

plot: if Appalachia is a tragedy then
Mountain Chorus Frogs stand as its masked Chorus
commenting upon humanity’s actions
these small lives live, thrive, becoming
an integral part of the food chain
but humans fail to see their value

we freeze and live: knowledge to give
reek, reek, reek the Chorus recounts

tragic hero: the Mountain Chorus
Frog, with a noble lineage spanning
over 200 million years

fungal infections multiply: our deaths do we spy
reek, reek, reek the Chorus recounts

tragic flaw: we believed humans to be
caretakers; they are capitalists, concerned
with profit, taking, taking, taking the land belonging to us all

water’s defiled; no grandchild
reek, reek, reek the Chorus recounts

hubris: life is sacred! we shall be saved!

on poisoned insects do we dine: we beg of humans a lifeline
reek, reek, reek the Chorus recounts

catastrophe: silence lays heavy among the mountains

temperatures rise, our water dries
reek, reek, reek the Chorus recounts

By day, Kathryn Reilly helps students investigate words’ power; by night, she resurrects goddesses and ghosts, spinning new speculative tales.  Sometimes, she even writes the truth. Enjoy poetry in Shadow Atlas, A Flight of Dragons, Last Girls Club, Paris Morning and fiction in Tree and Stone, Seaside Gothic, Diet Milk, Blink Ink, and Fish Gather to Listen. Her rescue mutts hear all the stories first. When she’s not working or writing, you can find her rewilding suburban spaces. She is a graduate of Frostburg State University (twice). Follow at @Katecanwrite or visit Kathryn's Web site.

Tile: Robert Havell after John James Audubon, Sora or Rail, 1834, Courtesy National Gallery of Art, Washington