Remember Lot's Wife
SHARI WAGNER, et al



​Remember her touching the worn table,
its deep grooves marking the meals
offered to her beloved tribe.

Remember her seeing the weaving
unfinished, breakfast dishes in the sink,
eastern light tracing a grandchild’s 

clay figurines. Remember her leaving
with turmoil in her heart, confusion
in her mind, the push/pull of going 

but wanting to stay. Remember her
walking, leaving her daughters 
to the burdens and trailing farther 

and farther as her legs nagged her 
to stop, to take a single step away from 
the unknown destination. Remember 

her hearing mews, bleats, and cries,
panicked hooves, sounds of scramble. 
Remember her smelling sulfur, 

her nostrils full of smoke and ashes 
of former homes and pets and friends.  
Remember her tasting ash in the air—

desiring instead the sweet grapes 
from her vines. Remember her standing 
on a slant of earth that begged her 

backward. Remember her turning, nearly 
shouting that she could not continue, 
but despairing of any power to arrest 

the curving of her right foot across 
her left, the grinding of her left heel 
as it pivoted toward doom.









This collaborative poem was written by Shari Wagner’s workshop, “In the Company of Lot’s Wife: Writing Poems of Remembering and Witness,” on 6/15/2019. 

Participants: DENISE BUSCHMANN, DAN CARPENTER, DONNAMARIE FLANAGAN, MARY JANE GANDOUR, CYNTHIA RAGSDALE, ANNA STYERS-BARNETT


SHARI WAGNER was Indiana's Poet Laureate in 2016 and 2017, and is author of three books of poems: The Farm Wife’s AlmanacThe Harmonist at Nightfall: Poems of Indiana, and Evening Chore.



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ISSN: 1533 2063
FALL 2019