It is written
That when G-d set his wrath
Upon the plains
That contained
Sodom and Gomorrah
He searched for the righteous
And found none
But Abraham asked mercy
And Lot was spared
Together
With a wife
And two
Daughters
He fled
…
But she
Who is not named
Could not resist
In defiance she looked
And in defiance she was cast
Like molten metal
Into the form
Of a pillar
Of salt
Condemned
To watch forevermore
As her city was ruined
And to be remembered
Not by name
But by deed
…
I don’t live in Sodom
Or even Gomorrah
I don’t call the Dead Sea home
Nor do I know where
She stands
But each winter
When the snow falls
And the salt dusts My city
I think of her
Who has no name
And I see her
I see her in the snow
In the piles
Left behind
That refuse to stop looking
At what was
Refuse to accept
That winter is no more
That spring reigns now
…
Her memory is invoked
In each Little pile
As if of salt
But made of what the salt
Could not conquer
They sit on corners
In alleys
On lawns
And on streets
Pillars
Proud and tall
Like their Biblical mother-in-law
Vestiges of
Inches and inches
Feet even
Stubborn
And heeding not
The warnings
Of those who cavort
With He who sends the firestorm
They stay behind
A reminder
A warning
Of what happens
To those who heed not
So I call them
For what they are
Those stubborn
Daughters-in-law
Of Lot
Condemned
To have no name
Other than their form
And Their relation
To he who looked forward
And sired the future