On Stewart's Branch (For Damon)

Abstract

On Stewart's Branch (For Damon) Edwina Pendarvis (bio) Pick up your things, you said.Maybe it'll blow over, I returned,still loading my pistol.Then you again—Look at the sky; unless that's virga . . . I looked up at the whitish gray clouds and the darker gray veilslanting down from them.Soon, hailstones bounced off our old galvanized bucket,not good for much now, rusted through in places,but turned upside down, and coveredwith a purple bandanna and boxes of bullets.I stuck a bullet, and the clipI'd been loading, into my pocketand ran for the truck. We got in and watched the windows fog,turning the hilly landscape to a soft, green blur.When the hail stopped and the rain slowed down,you got out to shoot some more, while I waitedwith the truck door open, watching youand studying the sky. [End Page 103] Edwina Pendarvis Edwina Pendarvis teaches at Marshall University in Huntington, West Virginia. Her roots are in the Appalachian coalfields, and her poetry collections include Joy Ride, In Human Landscapes, Like the Mountains of China, and Duets, a chapbook co-authored with Harry Gieg. Copyright © 2008 Berea College