A woman and a man in bed. He’s asleep, or nearly. Dim light from another room. She fits her hand to his hand. Wakes him with a question:
“Baby, why was Lot’s wife so bad?”
He stirs. Interrogative groan. She shuffles the syntax, repeats.
“Lot’s wife, why was she so bad?”
He grumbles. “If you want to fuck, you can just say so.”
“No. I really am asking. I want to know. You know things.”
“Things like this. About Lot’s wife. Why was she so bad?”
I wake up and believe the question is profound, believe I am the woman.