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  This Issue April 23, 2026 My Account Logout Site logo Politics Collapse Literature Collapse Arts Collapse Ideas Collapse Current Issue Current Issue More from the Review Events All Issues About Us Shop Literary Gifts Shop NYRB Classics Psalm 121 Timmy Straw a poem April 23, 2026 issue From the prohibition against representation     that binds the globe in images. From that blue sea from which like whips     my help will come to mend me nameless to this rock the world     that I may see you, my Lord. Who once misfit the eye     as mere prosperity, the glare that causes objects. Who once     set us in the deep a password, lock and mercenary. Who once     ranged in love, out there, the farthest animal of our personhood. But now the blackrobed brokerage of air is sawed     from under me. And now the gabled hospital I go is gated shut from me, ...

Table of Contents - April 23, 2026 | The New York Review of Books I always get confused. I think it’s Lot’s turning back that turned her to salt. A whole pillar of it. I always think he’s an Orpheus of sorts, though Orpheus was gorgeous and a knockout on his lute. But Lot? There’s not a whole lot we can say in his favor. I have to think his wife had a name other than Lot’s wife, that she might have looked back to glimpse the life she had before him, before he offered her daughters to that mob, before what lay ahead— Lot himself with their daughters, Lot telling everyone how blameless he was. And her conversion? You can see why a woman might opt for what she did— a mineral goats or camels could lick, a stinging Lot could do nothing with. Visit us on Facebook! Opens External Webpage Visit us on Twitter! Opens External Webpage Visit us on Threads! Opens External Webpage Visit us on Bluesky! Opens External Webpage Copy share link Print page Andrea Cohen Andrea Cohen’s new book of poems,...