A sky without clouds, that tissue paper blue
above a field of paperwhite and gold, the first day we met.

Poplars whispered to me your name, word of porcelain
on a breath of pine, and the mountains hummed with me
as I said it over and over again,
“Rebecca, Rebecca, Rebecca.”

From the peak of the Allegheny, I lifted
a charred sliver of bark and found our first kiss there,
among roots and larvae, tiny white bodies
filled with butter and salt. The taste all the same.

You promised to come back after your search for blackberries.
I watched the hills embrace you, your body swallowed
by more than just moonshine and music, the tang
of the bucket on your knees as you walked away.
The Appalachia had you.

I call for you every morning, hopeful of your return,
my voice an aid to the mountains that often forget your name.

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Amber D. Tran graduated from West Virginia University in 2012, where she specialized in lyrical non-fiction and contemporary poetry. She is the Editor-in-Chief for the Cold Creek Review literary journal. Her first novel, Moon River, was released in September. Her work has been featured in Calliope, Sonic Boom Journal, Spry Literary Journal, Cheat River Review, and more. She currently lives in Alabama with her husband and miniature dachshund.