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 LOUISE UNGAR’s latest book, Charlotte Brontë, You Ruined My Life, was a poetry best-seller for SPD (Small Press Distribution) for several months this spring upon its publication by The Word Works, where it can be ordered now. She is the author of two previous collections of poetry, Thrift and The Origin of the Milky Way. The latter won the 2006 Gival Press Poetry Award, a Silver IPPY (Independent Publishers’ Book Award), an Eric J. Hoffer Notable for Poetry Award, and the Adirondack Center for Writing Award for Best Book of Poetry 2007 (co-winner). She is also the author of Haiku in English, and several poetry chapbooks. She is an English professor at the College of Saint Rose in Albany, New York.

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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