Haunted House / History

I've been meaning to post some of my poetry here. I don't exactly have any poems that deal directly with feminist issues, but I do have quite a few that deal with my struggle to work through the abuse I've suffered, and I suppose those are relevant to the AGA.

The first one (though not one of my faves) is a good metaphor of the way my past makes me feel at times. The second one is an imaginary conversation with an abuser that was sparked by a therapy session.

1. Haunted House
Walk on into this splendid mansion,
barefoot on plush carpets
in spacious rooms,
and rest on silken sheets.

Let appearances lull you in,
breathe in the air of luxury
and never listen to
the silent screams you'll hear by night.

Never open padlocked doors.
Don't look into dark corners.
If you want to live inside this house
you'll have to leave the ghosts their space.

This place is haunted,
the history written with blood,
skeletons burried in the basement
beneath years of distrust and fear.

Don't turn your back on me;
the ghosts will never harm you
and maybe you can
banish them to their graves.

2. History
The mention of your name is like
bonedust in my eyes.
"Are you sure you're ready to
talk about this?" she said and I smiled
to hide the raw flesh of wounds
refusing to heal.
Sure, let's talk,
let's analyze,
let's theorize,
build walls out of words,
precariously stacked until they collapse
and bury me underneath.

The memory of your face is like
a photograph of an earthquake,
all jagged concrete and broken earth.
Except sending a check won't make it
go away -
nothing will.
"It's over, you know" she told me,
reassuringly, soothing voice like a grate
on my frazzled nerves.
It's not.
You are still the pioneer of the field,
native mutiny notwithstanding.

I cannot erase our History.