Haunted House

“She herself is a haunted house. She does not possess herself;

her ancestors sometimes come and peer out of the windows of her eyes.”

—Angela Carter, The Lady of the House of Love

My body carries the phantom pains

of your kiss and touch with her

everyday. You find some way to

linger in my limbs long after

we’ve said our farewells.

My bones ache and creek as if

I am a old spiral staircase; each day

awake feels like they could break

or cave at any moment— internal damage.

Bitter nothings echo through my walls.

My windows are foggy and I can

just barely make out some lettering.

I know you’ve written me a message

in the condensation, but I can’t quite

understand. I never really understood.

My porch lights flicker at the thought

of you. They always have, and they most

likely always will. A house never forgets

her first occupant. But now I am wondering

if this house ever felt like a home to you.

***

Mary Binninger is a graduate of SUNY Purchase College and holds a BA in Creative Writing. She is the founder and co-editor-in-chief of her own online publication, Feral Feline Literary Magazine. She loves writing, reading, cats, and glitter. Mary has had poems published both online and in-print in journals such as SUNY Purchase’s Submissions Magazine and Gutter Mag, as well as Empyrean Literary Magazine, Crystal Crush Mag, and Hey Young Writer. She also runs a small jewelry business, which can be found on instagram, @theglooomroom.