ten years is long time
memories fade, people forget
it felt good to be back
the house felt just the same
both stayed up late,
cleaning and rearranging
in the dead of the night
when he woke up
to the telephone ringing
three times, maybe four
(who cares when one is aroused from deep sleep)
before he could get to it,
he found himself sprawled on the floor
with cold ghostly hands throttling him
and knife's edge almost cutting into him
his dad freaked out at the almost severed neck
when he ran around to check who was it
no doors or windows were found open
invisible footprints led his dad under the kitchen sink
he baulked at the memory of it-
the same place they had buried their reclusive neighbour
his dad could see a shape of a door on it
