Objectify

Objectify

By Sandy Dimiterchik

Do not objectify me,

Do not look only outside, as I have a heart.

Do not only go by what you see,

That is not the place to start.

I will age, and the new me you may not recognize

If you only judge from the physique,

But learn about my inside,

To my soul wherein lies the key.

Sirens

Sirens

by Sandy Dimiterchik

Before the parade starts,
the police on motorcycles dart
in circles, then move down the route,
revving their engines to get out
stragglers from the line.

The sirens sing.
I know then that it is time
to catch beads, trinkets,
all a person can get.

Then the floats end.
The people get in the street again,
go home with their winnings,
to cook, beginning
with all the food they left,
to eat all they can for the fete.

There are other times the sirens sing,
when people are hurt or a house afire, perhaps people retiring
from a long day,
a stove left on, an unwatched flame.

Sirens come, loud and shrill,
interrupting your meal,
coursing through traffic,
even when the driver is a maverick.
Saving a person’s life,
a house, or breaking up a fight.
Police, fire, or ambulance from afar,
as a motorcycle, a van, a truck, or even a car.

The Bee Sting

The Bee Sting

By Sandy Dimiterchik

When I was a child and very young,
I sat by a pool and got stung
by a bee, as it lay dying in the water,
on the cement edge because it got splattered.

I don’t know what kind of bee it was,
or whether it would have stung me
if its life had not come undone.

My leg swelled up from the bite,
but luckily went down again by the night.

I am reminded of General Custer and his Last Stand,
who did not know it would take every last breath.
Poor bee, though he fought until the end.
Poor me, I will look next time then.