Too noisy, I say, but he cannot hear
Above the din of drill and saw
Again I try: Too noisy, neighbour,
as backhoe rips the ground to shreds
But he only stares, hands on hips
as his home reshapes before his eyes
I’m left to wonder: can he read lips?
Joan Skura writes from Toronto, Canada, where she lives with her husband, Ron, and their finicky feline, Lola.
Perhaps not but we can read between the lines and agree with a finger in the air. Nice piece.