This is no dream—it’s really happening!

 

What to do when you realize that handsome
devil you married wasn’t just John Cassavetes
but an actual minion of Mephistopheles?
Not only have you been fucked by Satan,

but you’ve carried and nursed his spawn.
You are in love with Beelzebub’s kid—
and, for the rest of your life, you will
have congress with the Prince of Darkness.

There is no escape. Your egg, his demon seed
intertwined in those golden curls,
the blue eyes you check daily for a goatish
sign, but find instead a Raphael,
a bambino fit for a Madonna.

 

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BARBARA UNGAR’s new collection of poetry, Save Our Ship, was chosen by Mark Jarman for the Richard Snyder Memorial Prize and is forthcoming from Ashland Poetry Press in November 2019. Her last book, Immortal Medusa (The Word Works, 2015), won the Adirondack Center for Writing Poetry Award and was one of Kirkus Reviews’ Best Indie Books of the year; their starred review begins, “Ungar’s new collection may not make her immortal, but it surely establishes her as a contemporary poet of the first rank.” Prior books include Charlotte Brontë, You Ruined My Life, selected by Denise Duhamel for the Hilary Tham Collection (The Word Works, 2011); Thrift (Word Tech, 2005); and The Origin of the Milky Way (Gival Press, 2007), which won the Gival Prize, a silver Independent Publishers medal, and and several other awards. She has published in the Southern Indiana Review, Rattle, Salmagundi, Minnesota Review, cream city review, Literary Review, and many other journals. She has read widely, including at the Dodge Poetry Festival, Poets House, and Academy of American Poets. Her work-in-progress, EDGE, an acronymn for the Evolutionarily Distinct and Globally Endangered list, confronts the sixth extinction. www.barbaraungar.net

One response to “Rosemary’s Divorce”

  1. Uche Ogbuji says:

    The bambini of Raphael and mates were quite often demon seeds, and grew up true to type, so there is time spot the cloven hooves as they gather as condottieri, or in consultation with the trade guilds to plot the destruction of the church.

    Thankfully, the nurture of the devil is the very nurture of art, even when it comes under the canopy of piety.

    I love that last stanza.

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