Ding. Dong. Donkey Kong.
I ran and ran up the stairs,
climbing to the upper floor
and safety; ghosts chasing
but never catching
the boy running up every stair
as if chased by ghosts.
Ding. Dong. King. Kong.
I walk up every stair. Slowly.
No floor harbours safety.
Every ghost a ghastly presence
from the past, present, and future.
Ding. Dong. The door bell tolls.
The world of ghosts
— calling.