Black Petals Issue #79 Spring, 2017

A Mother's Delight

Mars-News, Views and Commentary
Cellmates-Fiction by Roy Dorman
Drogol the Nosophorous and the Calf of Man-Fiction by Mike Mulvihill
Feral Rage-Fiction by Dave Anderson
First Bite-Fiction by Jeff Dosser
For Sale-Fiction by Dave Anderson
Get Some Shelter-Fiction by Roy Dorman
Last Leg-Fiction by Dave Anderson
Surviving Montezuma, Ch. 7 & 8-Continuing Fiction by Kenneth James Crist
Turbulent Silence-Fiction by George Economou
3 Haiku by William Landis
A Mother's Delight-Poem by Liz McAdams
4 Poems by Brendan McBreen

Liz McAdams



A Mother’s Delight


Before her, the tower rose up— 

Her longed-for home—

A sanctuary of blissful rest and

Escape to solitude

Amid crumbling cobblestone.


She leapt, or flew,

Or both

On wings outstretched,

Over decaying walls,


Heeding some fatal,

Feral siren call,

As if seeking

Treasure deep within,


Her wings behind her

Trailed, translucent in the dusk,

Then flapped and folded, once

Her feet found firm ground.


The bundle in her satchel

Lay unmoving, not mewling

Its softly cooing cries,

A heavy burden borne

Aloft across dark skies.


She turned, sharply stalking,

Following familiar scent

Over worn cobblestone;

Down dark passages she went 

Toward unseen, secret lair.


Faint breath and heavy vent

Of air guided her alone,

Along a labyrinthine path

Toward a nest, well hidden.


Within, alerted, a being’s

Muted cries grew louder,

As eager hunger turned to

Harsh clamor, demanding

Flesh for sustenance!


Echoes of her footsteps

Died amid screeching calls.

Entering, she paused, smile wide

In wonderment

At the tender fledgling,

Her wild heart’s pride.


Blackened wings,

So like her own,

Stretched translucent in dim light;

Flapping, beating, not yet grown,

Eliciting her own delight,


As fierce claws reached,

And sharpened teeth,

Of the cunning predator-to-be

Soon by her mother’s side,

Sharp hungry cries grew louder.


From the satchel noises vied:

Now alert, the helpless prey

Flapped and flipped and writhed,

Rolling over and releasing

Muffled human cries.


In the dim light flashed

Cruel fangs, gleaming eyes, 

As she tipped her tote

Upside-down and open wide,

Letting what there thrashed

Fall however it might.


Wounded flesh and sweet sobs,

Unheard amid the stone,

Became twisted screams

Of brutal anguish

No babe should bear alone.


It was later, so much later,

That she woke from under

A heavy, weary doze,

And smiled down as her dear child

Still gnawed the other’s toes.



Liz McAdams, , who wrote the BP #79 poem, “A Mother’s Delight,” has work in Yellow Mama, Shotgun Honey, Near to the Knuckle, Spelk, and is heavily involved with the newly emerging lit mag, Twisted Sister.

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