En Cul
We all came from the water. The sea
has never forgotten this. The salt makes
water struggle harder to keep you.
One in eighty thousand people are born with a caul,
the amniotic sac draped over them. They do not
breathe air for moments after birth.
You can drown days after leaving the sea.
The sea doesn’t give up easily, sometimes
your body doesn’t even know it’s still fighting.
Diadumenian was born with a caul, twisted like
bowstring, unbreakable by hand. Made king by eight,
dead by nine. It’s said the caul brings great luck.
All my friends have dreamed of drowning,
like a memory, even those who have never seen
the ocean. We all came from the sea.
Longshore Drift
I am in the process of forgetting.
Sand moves in accordance with
the angle of incoming waves.
Sometimes it travels tens of metres in a day.
Each grain has lived a life,
in the bones or shells of sea creatures,
then a million more in tidal motion.
The days without the movement of water
must feel like retirement.
The faces of people I once knew
have started to be replaced
by those of the people I know now.
I lost Heidi a few years ago.
Matt was replaced by my barista.
They share a name, nothing else.
The class I learned about long-shore drift
is two-thirds new faces.
It’s cliche to compare memories
To grains in an hourglass.
Hourglasses build slow mountains
at the bottom
And I lose more memories than I make.
These days, I’m starting to accept rot.
I am starting to drift away.
Connor Sansby is the Editor-in-Chief of Whisky & Beards Publishing, from 2014 to the present. He is 3x Saboteur Award nominated (2x Most Innovative Publisher, 1x Best Regular Night) and he was the Open School East Associate Artist in 2019. Connor is the Slam Host for The Margate Bookie from 2018 to the present. He is a writer who focusses on the relationship between the inner and outer landscape, and is deeply connected to the sea, near which he has spent most of his life.
DIY MFA 