The Sprig of Rosemary
                        Based on the Spanish fairy tale

That life is a tiny apology is prettier than true.
Straw & card house, straw and cards, and in the end
pieces unlocked the Unhappy and blew the big wedding.
Always a godmother, never a mum, her aphids
of reproduction smelting on tongues, and seeing
as memory’s a tough nut to crack, she took a sprig
in her step and a yawn in her gown and set out
to get back Who’d tolerated some drought.

Now rarer than learning your husband’s a beast
is winning him back with almonds conceived
elementally, and petticoats, and unwitting thief,
and while Sun, Moon, and Wind could not do enough
to rinse charm over rust, she did mint her own shrubby
sufficient for hubby to realize he’d married her,
wave scat to the carrion, and collect (re-) the trailer.

Here the story veers to Unkind, the man growing
sick and tired, uninspired, the magic of their song
reaching its limit on the spinet. If all this sounds wrong,
remember there’s less fairy in this tale than ordinary,
and the henpecked effect is a dull camisole. The lesson
indeed is to never impede memory with frump
since history’s a glaze spread to butter it up.

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Copyright © 2012 Angela Vogel All rights reserved
from Fort Gorgeous
The National Poetry Review Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission