The day my body opened up,

A soul birthing another soul

As doctors peered

Into my most private parts

And my husband said,

“At least you didn’t poop this time.”

(His weird way of offering me a little bit of lost respect—

an award for my last birth.)

I should have known

All privacies were gone.

For years, I had babies claw

At my knees,

Begging for attention

As though their sole purpose was to be

Back inside that soul hole

As I sat on my throne

And simply tried to pee.

They are grown now

And certainly have no delight

In my bathroom plights.

No, now it’s the dogs

Who scratch at the door,

Telling me

Privacy while peeing

Will never be mine.

But wait, my not-so-private island

Has opened its vast land

To more visitors,

Allowing them to enjoy

Panoramic potty views.

Now I simply need to sneeze

And the whole world can unknowingly

Watch me pee.

***

About the Author

Shelley Little

Born in New Brunswick, Canada, Shelley Little, now lives in Iowa with her three children, husband and two dogs. While she holds a Bachelor’s in Forestry and Environmental Science, after having children, she decided to stay home and pursue a writing career. She is now a full-time writer whose articles, short stories and poems have appeared or are forthcoming in: Funds for Writers, Moms Who Write, The Centrifugal Eye, Mom Writer’s Literary Magazine, Shemom, Writers Block Newsletter for the Midwest Writing Center, The Quad City Times, The Bettendorf News, and weekly on . She is currently finishing her first book of poems and hopes to find a publisher soon. In May, she also begins her new role as a volunteer staff member at Mothers Always Write.