I met Anna at Schumacher College, Devon, England. A poet who sat at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean and wrote these poems, on waterproof notebooks with a waterproof pen. One as a freediver, and one as if she was the sea herself. Her heart is an infinite ocean.
ANNA SELBY
Poet, naturalist
Totnes, United Kingdom
What Happens to Your Heart
It goes like this:
you will be floating
your skin will become thirst.
Submerge your face
a metamorphosis starts
blood retreats, heartbeat slowing
your mind an almost-state.
If you choose
dive, the transformation
grows. You become water
mammalian. On land
the equivalent pressure
kills. For the first few feet
your lungs are buoys, afterward
contracting air shrinks you.
Go deeper. You swim
into a gravityless space.
Here is where the ocean
stops pushing you away.
Further, the pressure trebles
the Master Switch kicks. Your heart
ticks even slower. Below
it plummets - 14 beats
or lower. You should be unconscious.
Your chest size halves, organ walls
work as release valves.
Now, turn back up.
Everything switches, reinflates,
races. You are land again,
of and on. You’re heart
broke laws.
Where the Light Cannot Follow
That hardening
hardening rockmoss -- fog
carried across -- the constant constant
sweeping green mops -- the picking at
punctuation -- an eel flicked
up, a coil, snatch -- that net
of sunlight drafts -- the billion
billion lights that drop to me
-- the clinging growths -- the lay me down
to sleeps -- teeth -- the rippling
stirring sheaths -- my moulting -- this shoving
roll -- the long ehho
of a whale sounded back -- my yawns
gaps -- the thousand thousand
nested in me -- my pregnancies
the hot hot clackle -- porous
chimneys -- sand-ash
stampedes -- shot at-shot from
through -- tickling
creeps -- these anchor
piercings -- these beats -- the cardinal
cardinal warren of sleeves
-- the hundred writhers
that gasp from me -- leak -- freed -- this
tucking in -- these folds
-- the mobile
of rays that hang over me
spin -- circling -- those small
wings scissoring above them -- these whale
lynchings -- this end gulp -- this crink --
all the hours it takes
a vessel to sink -- this dismantling
of colour -- breaks
in refractions -- these water
tackles -- these hymns
groans, mouthings -- these light
flashing strings -- contortions
-- clackers -- these tempters’
trappers’ scrapers’ bleachers’
tantrums -- whims -- these
I wants I won’ts
-- these clappers -- this dance
of all the drowned at sea -- the molars
they bring to me -- the feeds - the falls
-- the vocalists -- the voices
trapped in the plane dives
the cutters -- hackers -- crawling breeds
-- spitters -- the luminescencers -- this deep
deep -- jut -- cliff -- jaw
slummocked -- this molten dark
black-black -- benthic -- scarred