lot’s wife

i am full of blinding visions

i am chock-full of first attempts—




tangerines dancing—

i am the pomegranate and the apple

i am the teeth of eve on apples

i am the beauty of the apple

(i am round


ready to be plucked

i am the serpent and the temptress

i am babylon and israel)

i am pregnant with metaphor

as mary with messiah;

as judas with his master

i sell meaning for thirty shekels

i illuminate through symbols

i am sodom and gomorrah

the salt becomes my tongue

my tongue salts the pillars

lot’s wife becomes my rhyme

my words take on divinity

thrice they smote the angels

twice i ransomed syntax

once i sound the bell

(my words split hairs in heaven,

my words are kept in shells)

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