ÖMËGÄ
MATERIAL PEARL ❋ Jeanette Beebe
She
took the first dose
of estrogen under
her tongue,
and waited for it
to dissolve.
She
stood at the shelf
between two rooms,
a body
that surpasses itself,
the parts she
was born with,
a body that’s pliable,
but not
infinite, not too,
a body not.
She
stayed back, closed
her eyes, breathed in,
out, herself.
On the bed of her mouth
sat a pearl.
It was a thing for becoming.
It tasted so. It tasted sweet.
A weight. A place. A container.
She swallowed or yawned,
and the pearl was gone.