Lot’s Wife

I think today of the boy in choir class
who closed his eyes when we sang
about Jesus. Who swayed, as if the Lord
himself was in the room.
I sat in the back row and braided
my girlfriend’s hair. Men are allowed
to worship each other. To bow down
at the feet of fellow men. But not to touch them.
They stand shoulder to shoulder,
eyes forward, staring at the same thing.
Women, on the other hand,
must also save their worship for men,
but their touches can go wherever they
damn well want to put their fingers.
The boy told me the story of
Lot’s nameless wife.
Who turned into a pillar of salt,
because she was disobedient.
Why not Ketchup, I said
Why not butter?
But I was missing the point,
which was: These are the rules of men,
follow them.

Karina Jutzi is a multi-genre writer whose work meets at the intersection of art and spirituality. Her poetry, plays, essays, and comedy writing have been featured in various literary magazines and publications. The main themes in her work are death, birth, and anything that peers into the void. She currently lives on a small farm in Vermont with her husband and young children.