Lot and His Wife in Kansas

Don’t look back, he said,
But she had to see the well once more
and the window where she quilted
and the way the ivy hugged the trellis
And he tried to stop her
but she had to see it all just once more —

She turned her head.

The cornfield rustled.
He stopped to look at her face,
frozen like a picture in a seed catalogue
all golden and glistening,
a million yellow pieces balanced silently
into a woman with squinting eyes.
He wanted to stay and gather them up
to make a bread that would nourish him all his days,
but knew he couldn’t.
He grabbed a handful
and heard her collapse
as he ran through tall shaking stalks,
away from the fire
chasing behind him foot by foot.