by Mia Poirier
You first watched Rosemary’s Baby
when you were pregnant with me.
You’d later tell me how much you
admired Mia Farrow, because she
was “so poised and delicate.”
Mia Farrow made giving birth
to the devil look glamorous.
You must have drawn strength
from her pixie cut, her doe eyes,
her cute muffin bump in dresses.
I was a demon.
I kicked you in the womb,
I kicked you in line at the
grocery store when you wouldn’t
buy me a pack of M&Ms.
The movie ends when Mia Farrow first
looks at her baby. When you saw me
your hair was matted and frizzy,
and your eyes were half shut. I’m not
sure if the sight of my bald head was a relief.