She dropped to the linoleum
like a penny, not even worth
enough to pick up, or transfer
from ground to pocket to jar
in the bedroom where small
things worth keeping are kept.
She woke, stuffed, a body
in a hole. Her job was to
take out the mess, to give it
not to who made it, but to
the dirt, the drain, anything
that would take, only take.
She gathered what he left
on her, pushed it into a ball
and spit it into the air to see
how far it would fly.
Jeanette Beebe is a poet and journalist. Her reporting has been featured in Scientific American and is regularly broadcast on the NPR station in Philadelphia (WHYY). Her poems have appeared in Crab Creek Review, Delaware Poetry Review, Heavy Feather Review, Nat Brut, Rogue Agent, Tinderbox, and Tipton Poetry Journal, and are forthcoming in After the Pause, Crab Fat, Dialogist, Fjords Review, and Metatron. An Iowa native based in New Jersey, her poem “Adopted” won First Prize in the Iowa Poetry Association’s Lyrical Review contest. She holds an A.B. from Princeton, where she was lucky enough to write a poetry thesis advised by Tracy K. Smith. www.jeanettebeebe.com.