House of Bone

Poem about surviving an unhappy childhood and being haunted by its memory.

House of Bone

There is a song in this house.
The storyteller spoke true
even as horses ran away with her tongue.
There is sinew and love but also teeth.
"I am aware" cries the house,
sentient with love
it rattles the framing to shake
the evil from its eaves,
the unhappy leftovers of lost people.
They are digging up bones
in the basement,
knocking down walls,
killing dead space.
They stir up things that should sleep;
they put to sleep things that should live.
This house loves the young girl
who falls asleep with her cheek
against its knotty pine panels
in the youngest part of the house.
This house of bone
ties itself to her with strings.
It pulls itself with her.
She carries its soul,
leaving behind them a corpse as they travel,
nothing more than pine and plaster,
and the dusty residue of its ghosts.