Did you know those grains of sand
when magnified look like little charms,
a sorceress’s spilled cache—
scarabs & crystals & crumbled bits of amulet,
a broken kaleidoscope glittering the hemlines
of girls who don’t tilt toward the light,
but ache for the horizon. It’s the sound
of their voices that I remember,
a current diffused by the ocean’s soft prattle.
Beams of flashlights swinging ribbons
that chased ghost crabs sideways
into their coves. What is light anyway,
but a form made malleable by darkness,
an inversion of elements,
and did I mention the windchimes
clattering in capiz and sea glass
to lantern them home,
or the stars, how they glimmered—
small cogs fevered and pinioned in a night
so tender it could have been a mist.
Laura Sobbott Ross has worked as a teacher and a writing coach for Lake County Schools in Central Florida and was named as Lake County’s first poet laureate. Her poetry appears in many journals, including Meridian, 32 Poems, and the Florida Review. She was a finalist for the Art & Letters Poetry Prize and won the Southern Humanities Auburn Witness Poetry Prize. She’s the author of two poetry chapbooks and two full-length poetry books.