Lot's wife
Don’t expect me to gaze again
brazenly into that face
as the angle of sun tilts around it.
Lines, crags, irregular
sweet tooth, garnet and grey.
Lethal beauty.
Somehow absurd that I,
who was only glancing back
should be the one cast forever
in the shape of regret.
A lonesome monument to
She who lingered
too long.
Poems