1. What Lot’s Wife Would Have Said (If She Wasn’t A Pillar of Salt)

    Do you remember when we met
    in Gomorrah? When you were still beardless,
    and I would oil my hair in the lamp light before seeing
    you, when we were young, and blushed with youth
    like bruised fruit. Did we care then
    what our neighbors did
    in the dark?

    When our first daughter was born
    on the River Jordan, when our second
    cracked her pink head from my body
    like a promise, did we worry
    what our friends might be
    doing with their tongues?

    What new crevices they found
    to lick love into or strange flesh
    to push pleasure from, when we
    called them Sodomites then,
    all we meant by it
    was neighbor.

    When the angels told us to run
    from the city, I went with you,
    but even the angels knew
    that women always look back.
    Let me describe for you, Lot,
    what your city looked like burning
    since you never turned around to see it.

    Sulfur ran its sticky fingers over the skin
    of our countrymen. It smelled like burning hair
    and rancid eggs. I watched as our friends pulled
    chunks of brimstone from their faces. Is any form
    of loving this indecent?

    Cover your eyes tight,
    husband, until you see stars, convince
    yourself you are looking at Heaven.

    Because any man weak enough to hide his eyes while his neighbors
    are punished for the way they love deserves a vengeful god.

    I would say these things to you now, Lot,
    but an ocean has dried itself on my tongue.
    So instead I will stand here, while my body blows itself
    grain by grain back over the Land of Canaan.
    I will stand here
    and I will watch you
    run.

    By Karen Finneyfrock

     
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