HOME / poem: A weekly poem, read by the author.

"Lot's Wife"

By Katha PollittPosted 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 ArticlePRINTEmail to a FriendE-MAILShare This ArticleRECOMMEND...Get Slate RSS FeedsRSS
Katha Pollitt's collection of poems The Mind-Body Problem is forthcoming.
For Slate's poetry submission guidelines, click here.

Click here to visit Robert Pinsky's Favorite Poem Project site.
What did you think of this article?
Join The Fray: Our Reader Discussion Forum
POST A MESSAGE | READ MESSAGES
TODAY'S PICTURES
TODAY'S CARTOONS
TODAY'S DOONESBURY
TODAY'S VIDEO
Logging.89/091116_TP.jpg
Cartoonists' take on entertainment.75/091116_TC.jpg
Where's Wali?61/091116_TD.jpg