Through the Looking Glass

I was at a writers' conference yesterday, and the only time I had to jot down some ideas for a poem was during a bathroom break.  That's my excuse for another poem about bodily functions. (The squeamish need not read this one.)

                                                         Through the Looking Glass


                                                      I stand at the kiddie urinal, like
                                                      Alice after eating from the growth
                                                      side of the mushroom if she stood
                                                      for such things more successfully
                                                      than my daughter did when she
                                                      tried to imitate her brother's stance
                                                      while being potty trained.
                                                      It’s such a long way down.

                                                      It reminds me of a parent conference
                                                      with a second grade teacher.
                                                      Sitting in a tiny student seat,
                                                      knees to chin,                                            
                                                      I felt as if I had eaten from
                                                      a new side of the mushroom
                                                      so that I was giant in the miniature
                                                      chair but small before
                                                      the looming, booming
                                                      Miss Jones.

                                                     When I broke my hip at 50
                                                      while cycling in the rain,
                                                      I had to learn to walk again
                                                      and had to sit on an adult
                                                      potty chair, waiting for my
                                                      bowels to work once more.
                                                     What pride I took when
                                                     they did and I flashed
                                                     back and forward to first
                                                     and second childhood
                                                     with a single plop.