Lot Lover

The city burns

and I hear her scream,

hear all the people fall and fade and burn,

lose form and flicker beneath the earth.

I hear them, and I hear God,

holy trumpeteers and flutter of angels wings.

Only a glance, I tell myself, pushing her ahead.

To gaze as a father destroys his children

sweetest perdition to ever be wrought in the name of glory,

and in that second my eyes popped, a flash, and then I fell apart,

for as he burned the city, I swear,

He was crying.