Turning
by Steven Schroeder

When the wisest words in the world are spoken
by dumb asses who stand their ground on treacherous
passes guarded by angels, it hardly seems fair
that Lot's wife should pay such a price for turning
to take one last homeward look
                                                   --to say nothing
of Eurydice, scattered on wind because
Orpheus could not wait one more step to turn
and face the woman who drove him to sing
and dance desire to hell and back. Balaam's
ass turned him, but not without a struggle.
Lot turned his back on a damned city, an
unnamed wife
        --a salt monument, ephemeral
even in that dry place, long since dissolved
in a rare downpour that left nothing
to remember her by but absence.

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