NaPoWriMo - Poem 27

Dear Stephanie Mills,

The pink carpet was never enough to cushion me from the fall
Even the yellow walls - even after the candle-lit fire - wasn't
The sunshine I hoped it would be.

But I think I know what it looks like:
hands pressed against my knee caps,
bangs covering my forehead,
hair hanging past my ears,
smile - still the same - causing
half moon eyes to crimp with joy,
bathing suit with room, but snug enough
to stay in tact.

I stood in the living room of Carly's first Palm Springs house.

I must have been young enough to still be
of average weight.

I'm sure some photo album could give an exact date;

I'm sure some therapeutic sand castle dig into my past
could represent the trauma in full;

Either way,

It seems like the only possible reference point
I can find
In the entire history
Of this body.

All the best,
Caroline

P.S. I sang "Don't Nobody Bring Me No Bad News" for a musical review in high school. Apparently, I did pretty well - belting and grinding my voice. I still want to be on Broadway one day. Preferably in the Broadway revival of Pippin, as the first female Lead Player. Similar to when Whoopi played Psedolous in Forum. Either way, thanks for everything. I had your original Broadway rendition of "Home" on repeat for most of boarding school and college.