Alexa, play dance music, I instruct, emulate Uma
in Pulp Fiction, sweep two fingers over each eye,
shift my weight from one stocking foot to the other
in the Twist, plug my nose, sink, do the swim.

The littlest catches on, mutters Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle,
sways his hips, throws his chubby toddler arms up and down.
Our teen, mouth agape, stares, then gyrates like a snake,
morphs into a robot. The ten-year-old does the Floss.

Grandpa rouses from the next room, demands the Hot Dog song
from Mickie Mouse, gallops in, nails Goofy’s dimwitted dance.
Our 3-year-old, always eager to join the clan, commands in pixie voice,
Alexa, play I’m a Little Teapot, shouting his favorite line short and stout.
After collecting ourselves, we align in solidarity, all handles and spouts.

Nancy Austin relishes time to write in the Northwoods, has three collections of poetry, the newest titled Something Novel Came in Spring (Water’s Edge Press, 2021). A Pushcart Prize nominated poet, she is published in various journals, and savors time to write in retirement. Find her at www.nancyaustinauthor.com