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by Kim Ports Parsons

I heard a story once about a woman trapped in the past

because she wouldn’t read the news of the day

until she finished with the day before, and soon

one day became two, then three, then a month,

then a year, until she was living decades before. 

No one had the heart or nerve or strength

to break the hours into their rightful slots

for her, to name the day’s events and spoil

the plot for her. The clock, for her, had slowed,

spun backward, and shifted gears, clicked

at the speed of her will. She sat ensconced

among stacks of the yellowing world.


Kim Ports Parsons grew up near Baltimore, earned degrees, and worked in education for thirty years. Now she lives near Shenandoah National Park, writes, gardens, walks, and volunteers for Cultivating Voices LIVE Poetry. Her poems appear in many publications, including Skylight 47, LIVE ENCOUNTERS, and Vox Populi and have been nominated for a Pushcart. Her first collection, The Mayapple Forest (Terrapin Books 2022), was a finalist for the North American Book Award, sponsored by the Poetry Society of Virginia.


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