person Mary Ann Dimand, two poems

Mary Ann Dimand was born in Southern Illinois where Union North met Confederate South, and her work is shaped by kinships and conflicts: economics and theology, farming and feminism and history. Dimand holds an MA in economics from Carleton University, an MPhil from Yale University, and an MDiv from Iliff School of Theology. Some of her previous publication credits include: The History of Game Theory Volume I: From the Beginnings to 1945; The Foundations of Game Theory; and Women of Value: Feminist Essays on the History of Women in Economics, among others. Her work is published or forthcoming in The Birds We Piled Loosely, Bitterzoet Magazine, The Borfski Press, The Broken Plate, Chapter House Journal, Euphony Journal, Faultline, FRiGG Magazine, Green Hills Literary Lantern, The Hungry Chimera, The MacGuffin, Mantis, Misfit Magazine, Penumbra, Scarlet Leaf Review, Slab, Sweet Tree Review, and Tulane Review.



Sometimes the wave comes
when you thought you’d tamed
it. You don’t know
what’s in it—broken things
you meant to mend, seeds
unplanted, bones that hector
and remind you of the things
you’ve slain, words that rush
to throttle you, foaming, furious.
It hardly matters. What you’ve been pushing
not to know is what deep forces
press the water. It is their only voice
to tell you, “Look! Remember!
You can turn your head, you can float
and call me solid ground, but
you can’t forget me long.”



Stop. Consider
the black cattle
grazing so quietly
on rain-fattened grass.
Breathe with them. If
you can, snuff
the clover sweetness
of their inspiration.
Sure, you’re shaken
by the cries for slaughter,
the surge toward corpse-paved
stillness. Time to remember
the black cattle, beloved
of Annwn, just cattle,
moving forth and back
between the realm of death
and ours. Just two countries
side by side, entwined.