The angels offered reprieve,
escape for Lot's entire household
including almost-sons who having witnessed
a divine defense of honor
dared to scoff at certain doom.

Commanded in that final moment to depart,
Lot himself paused,
needed to be tugged away
from his destruction—
man caught up in doubts and compromise
the hand of grace dislodged for him; for us.

What did Lot's wife hope to see
when on that moving day her eyes slid back
to the town where she had raised a family,
exchanged the recipes of substitution . . .

Perhaps she turned to douse with tears
the fire of a hearth where friendship dawdled
near the shame she'd entertained:
in her heart, still burning,
embers of a tolerance

for sin we too have hosted—

her final heedless turning hardened
into destination.