Bryan

Margaret V.Doran

Poor Bryan was a
      volunteer firefighter;
gung-ho, full of
           enthusiasm
but then, with plenty of warning,
Fire Departments had to have
           medics, also
and Bryan KNEW
           he wasn’t one of those
But still, when his pager whined
                     its shrill staccato
           in the middle of the night
Bryan would don his
           turnouts: bunker pants folded
           over ranger boots, a coat and
                               yellow helmet
And hitch a ride on
           an outgoing rig
      (our department still rode tailboards)
to be of service wherever
                               he could
But it seemed to him
that each time he went
                               Someone died:
five in a row.
And we made jokes about
                     "The Terminal Man"
until number six
                               who committed suicide
                by flaying open his own
arm from bicep to wrist
                and bled to death but . . .
THERE WAS NO BLOOD!

And time seemed to stand still
while we searched for the answer
and Bryan stared, ashen-faced
                into that open, gaping,
                               colorless arm
And we felt so sorry for
the poor, distraught little
dog. So concerned for his master
pacing and whimpering.
Bryan was having a
                Very Hard Time.

Then we finally found one
                bloody doggy footprint
                               near the door
and realized in his attempt to help
           his master
the little dog had lapped up

All the Evidence

And Bryan clutched at the door post and
someone helped him out
           into the fresh air
and he did not ride the tailboard
                          back to the station
He had suddenly, without warning,
Quit the Department
And we last saw him
                without turnouts or helmet
walking slowly down the country road
Towards Home.

Copyright © 1997 Margaret V. Doran. All rights reserved.
If you enjoyed this poem, please send her an e-mail here.

Written in response to "In the Waiting Room" by Elizabeth Bishop

Updated July 1, 1999
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