Fireman’s Carry
For My Stepfather
 
Tromping through mud
in fields behind the house -
yellow slicker, loose gumboots. 
The rain begins again.
 
Lodged up to my ankles in brown
sludge, inhaled by its suction.
 
He climbs the wire fence, jumps 
over in short sleeves and sneakers.
My whole life he’s like this,
 
laughing as he extracts me, 
takes me home fireman’s carry, 
saying don’t 
go back in.