Mary Ann dimand
At The Intersection
Are they friends? Colleague
spies, the blackbird
and dull camera? One detects
each eyelid flicker, every waft
of undigested doughnut, harks
to every whispered prayer. And one wakes
only to transgression, a quick
indifferent recording angel.
One will tell its tales
to those with passwords, spilling
its crawful of petty crimes
to the ring of cash registers. Its fellow
never tells, but sings in praise
of rainbows and coconuts, of rage
and fruitful rubbish in a voice
so bronze it is unbearable.
About the Author
Mary Ann Dimand lives in Colorado, where she is transforming a small horse property into a mini-farm and following hockey.