Screaming Saw

A high pitch scream
pierces my ear drum
from mid morning to late afternoon
like torture in prison
the incessant sound assaults my brain
with discordant squeals 

while the worker across the way
toils day after day
building the flower bed with bricks
of various sizes, aiming for artistry in his design
but my brain is going insane.

I imagine getting a hammer

to rearrange his saw into a pile of steel

or a pair of scissor to cut his cord

an air horn to blast at his window
after the sun goes down.

I’m forced to close the windows,

turn up the T.V., or go out to the mall,

anything to block the screams 

from my neighbor's electric saw.