Appalachian Baseline

I never knew it as a place, only as a mile
marker between hunger and a paycheck,
Snickers Gap, north of Slate Ridge and east
of everything I knew. Before these mountains
rose up, tried to separate us into haves
and have nots, this road was a riverbed.
They say if you pull off up by Bluemont,
dig in the washout by the treeline you'll find
fossils of fish smothered there in the dirt.
Twice a day I pounded that road, beating
those bones deeper into their grave.
Some say it's the warm air sliding up
over the mountains that causes rain,
but maybe it's just the mountains trying
to wash the dust away from its dead.

*Roy Bearden-White lives in Southern Illinois with his wife, son, mother-in-law, 27 fish, one dog, 19 cats, a canary, and three raccoons who claim they are “just passing by.” His poetry has been published by Grassroots, True Poet Magazine, Three Cup Morning, The Aurora Review, and Once Upon A Time. He is a graduate student at Southern Illinois University.