knife's edge

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