Lot’s Wife                       

 

We think of bewitchery

 

                        orchards seen through heat

 

as the provenance of youth

 

                        a globe catches fire in her hands

 

but that is wrong

 

                        the way she can see inside the body

 

Ask anyone

 

                        more thirst than she can bear

 

existing on the median

 

                        pale luminous bones

 

between first breath and last breath

 

                        wild skein on the path

 

and they will confess to

 

                        some warnings sound like

 

wicked yearnings

 

                        one wrong move

 

The skull might shatter at any moment

 

                        buried deep in her loins

 

the rod swung at an awkward angle

 

                        the kiss finally when it comes

 

hours will be lost

 

                        nothing is as sweet as

 

The way she can see inside his body

 

                        her fists under her breasts

 

In the absence of rain

 

                        sweat down her back

 

every song is thunder

 

                        ashes on her breath

 

an underworld of need

 

                        move toward the flames

 

Fever on the path to the mouth

 

                        hell’s troth with desire

 

She floats in limbo

 

                        love cannot be fooled

 

tears on the lips the tongue

 

                        an untried road

 

Woven bodies loosening

 

                        wrongs steeped in blood and dust