Sophia Ferries-Rowe

Sparkling, glimmering dust shoots high

Into the air of the playroom

As my cousin and I dance

And sing to Teenage Dream.

We thrash our limbs in stuttered

Starts and staggered stomps in a desperate

Attempt to mirror glowing figures on

The screen. We slide to the left and reach

For the stars.

Metal mats glow beneath our feet, Red,

Blue, Yellow, Green. Arrows point

Outward toward the corners of the room.

We never strike the mat on beat. We lurch

Our feet up and to the right. We jump to

The middle. We miss every step. Our

Final grade is “F.”

Still, our faces smile because no matter

Our score, our mothers stand and cheer.

.

Through the laughing, jumping, yelling

And losing, Skeeter and me dance.

My family is not dainty, not polite,

Gentle or demure. We have two

Left feet. We are loud and clumsy.

We are family.