Lancaster | Kelly Jacobson

The car moves slowly as the clouds,
while father alternates between camera and wheel.
Children stare, their faces turned as they hang wash
or fly on scooters down the dusty roads.
All around me there is farmland like picnic blankets
laid down in soft rows, and cows chew lazily
to the rhythm of wind on their hides.
A buggy turns in front — Cinderella’s carriage to me,
a candid photo to my father — and he holds up
his camera to stop time. But it is frozen already,
a beautiful fossil town we have unearthed together,
so I put a small hand on his arm and we watch.

Kelly Jacobson is currently pursuing her MA in Writing (Fiction Concentration) at Johns Hopkins University. Prior to her studies at Johns Hopkins, she graduated from George Washington University in 2010 with a major in Women’s Studies. One of her poems, “Out with the Recycling,” was published in Wooden Teeth, and she has had stories published in The Exhibitionist Magazine as well as a four part blog on


  1. Grandma Sunny, mother of Dad.

    Beautiful, sensitive poem. Of course Dad just “happens” to be there with his camera for the perfect photo.

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