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.