After the Faeries

After the Faeries – Hilary Biehl

The corners of the room are brightest, most alive,
rough edges of the real
where cats’ eyes keep unreasonable watch, and shadows thrive.
The raindrops on the glass
hold memories that she’s forgotten how to feel.

Minutes heaped on dull minutes become hours. Days pass,
replaced by duplicates.
Sunlight seems pale and obvious, electric lighting crass,
compared to faerie fire.
She sits hugging her knees on moonlit nights and waits

for them to take her back. She concentrates desire
into a knot of pain.
Dead leaves are messages; faces appear in bark and briar
only to vanish as
she looks at them. Her handprints on the window pane

cast their long shadows on the floor. She shuts her eyes
and listens to the thunder.
She knows longing for the unreal is dangerous, unwise,
but what alternative
is there? When they dreamed in her, they hijacked wonder.


Hilary Biehl’s poetry and short fiction have appeared in Abyss & Apex, Permafrost, Barking Sycamores, Luna Station Quarterly and elsewhere. She lives with her husband and son in Santa Fe, New Mexico.