One Poem by Hiromi Yoshida

 

Lot’s Wife

Her lot was 

to become 

a pillar of salt; 

silly punishment for 

glancing backward— 

to confirm that Sodom 

kept burning.   Her 

 

scarves swirled 

around 

her parched 

throat, gentle 

strangulation; 

 

her eyes burned 

with flying sand 

and ash— 

 

the terrible 

thirst, the salt rising 

in her oesophagus— 

she gagged, 

coughed up 

bloody mucous 

 

that tangled 

with her viscous 

DNA, and she  

became the salty 

caryatid, 

 

duly ossified, a 

silly fossil.

 

Hiromi Yoshida - Author of two full-length poetry collections and four poetry chapbooks, Hiromi Yoshida is a finalist for the New Women’s Voices Poetry Prize, and a semi-finalist for the Gerald Cable Book Award. She is also the editor of Stormwash: Environmental Poems (The Grind Stone, 2024), and Poetry Editor for Flying Island Journal. She serves on the board of directors of the Writers Guild at Bloomington, and coordinates the Guild’s Last Sunday Poetry reading series.