A Black Widow & Other Poems by Linda M. Crate

Adorably Horror Series – Linda M. Crate

a black widow
i’m the spider,
you’re the fly;
what is normal to me
is chaos to you

so let me enjoy
your screaming—

they say i have a pretty face,
but i am quite terrifying;
no one ever sees me coming

until they’re dead—

charming and funny,
they always underestimate me;

always write me off as cute—

i am a black widow
one bite is all i need,
and then you’re gone
like the fallen leaves of autumn
thrust into a black bag and never
seen again.
-linda m. crate

feisty little damphyr
not quite
human nor vampire,
but a shade between
i am the feisty
little damphyr;

everyone thinks i’m funny even
when i’m being mean—

they don’t quite understand the
depths of my rage, my pain,
or my wrath;

they don’t understand that the hand that
feeds them will turn at any sign of disrespect—

these blood lusting fangs will extract every
last ruby that kept them alive,
i’m not someone you want to meet alone in the
forest at night;

but they dismiss me as pretty and beautiful
sometimes even cute

i use it to my advantage.
-linda m. crate

it’s nothing personal
tall enough not to be short
yet not tall enough to be tall
i am someone they easily
quiet and contrite
people often concede that i am
and i let them think that—
i revel in the fear
of my prey,
and i like to see their torment
when they realize
that i’m a monster no one
warned them about;
because no one suspects
women or their magic to be
powerful until they’re
too powerful to be stopped—
when they beg me not to bite,
i simply explain that everyone needs
to eat;
it’s nothing personal
even when it is.
-linda m. crate

a lust never satisfied
i am regal

they never suspect
someone so refined
and so charming
to be a monster,

and that’s the most thrilling aspect
of it all;
to never be seen until you’re ready to be heard—

fangs sharper than the edges
of the angriest moon,
and every bit as unforgiving;

i love to fall down from the trees
paralyzing them with fear as they turn around

they never anticipate the red eyes
or the aggression or this hunger
which drives me forward

it’s a lust that never seems satisfied,
always demands more.
-linda m. crate

this blood lust screaming
once they put me in a coffin
threw me underground,
but i broke free from the wood
and nails;

my sharp edges were sharpened
by this rage of being left for dead
whilst still alive—

everyone knows a coffin is but a
bed for the undead,

and it was a bit infuriating to think
i would be shoved beneath the ground
for a year and simply left there
when i never asked to sleep;

but we cannot always get what we want
or so they say—

i came back from the funeral they
designated for me with a vengeance,
and they will be the first victims of this
blood lust screaming in my fangs.
-linda m. crate


Linda M. Crate’s works have been published in numerous magazines and anthologies both online and in print. She is the author of six poetry chapbooks, the latest of which is: More Than Bone Music (Clare Songbirds Publishing House, March 2019). She’s also the author of the novel Phoenix Tears (Czykmate Books, June 2018). She has published three  full-length poetry collections Vampire Daughter (Dark Gatekeeper Gaming, February 2020), The Sweetest Blood (Cyberwit, February 2020), and Mythology of My Bones (Cyberwit, August 2020).

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