poem: A weekly poem, read by the author.

"Lot's Wife"

By Katha Pollitt
Posted Tuesday, March 14, 2006, at 6:37 AM ET

Click here to listen to Katha Pollitt read this poem.


Trudging behind the broad backside of God
she hums her useless tune
Oh little black dress at the back of the closet,
who will crush you now against his chest?

Green Italian boots in a midnight window,
a scrabble of rats, a hand
lit from within like a tulip—
Who dashes down that street to meet her lover?
Who sits in the movie theatre
coiled, silent, a black cat?

The dark-eyed daughters idly stroke their breasts.
A jackal crouches in shadow, hungry for salt.
At the base of a dune that heaves to the blank horizon
a palm tree shrugs its shoulders
as if to say: Well, what did you expect?

Print This ArticlePRINTDiscuss this in The FrayDISCUSSEmail to a FriendE-MAIL
Share on FacebookPost to MySpace!Share with MixxDigg ThisShare with RedditShare with del.icio.usShare with FurlShare with Ma.gnolia.comShare with SphereShare with Stumble Upon
Katha Pollitt is a columnist for the Nation. Her most recent book is Subject to Debate: Sense and Dissents on Women, Politics, and Culture.
For Slate's poetry submission guidelines, click here.

Click here to visit Robert Pinsky's Favorite Poem Project site.
Join the Fray: our reader discussion forum
What did you think of this article?
POST A MESSAGE | READ MESSAGES
Washington Post
The Washington Post
OPINIONS
Topic A: Obama's Speech
| Pundits and diplomats respond.
Robinson: Sunshine in BerlinToles: Obama the UniterTelnaes: Meanwhile, McCain
PLUS » Stumped: Bring Back Bill Clinton