Wooing the family
Without a muscle I made a rusty couch
levitate for your father, mother & brother.
They didn’t know my desire to impregnate
anyone in spitting distance & I didn’t squeak.
Silent, I forged a flower without speaking
origami, & you danced your paper heart out
& everyone ate gravy boats of fried ravioli:
the official food of love in college towns.
You didn’t inherit your father’s mustache
but your mother insisted there’s still time
& while we’re at it, disappear that couch.
All our parents snuck into creaky springs.
Poof! Siblings all moved to New York City
& we got voted most likely to procreate.
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FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 56 | Fall/Winter 2020