I have worn everything you gave me-
The ring, of course, and that absurd string of beads
Reaching to the naval, and your battered shirts
Full of your energy and our conjunctions.
And I have worn myself - this body, your tent
Of contentment, once your second skin,
Shrunk now, but serviceable, not yet for the scrap-heap.
I have worn, almost to shreds, our tatty jokes,
Ludicrous memories, and our crumpled rags
Of rhythm and phrase, - old hat, but comfortable.
Everything has been worn, nothing worn out.
Following his editorship of the poetry magazine Phoenix (1958 - 1975), Harry Chambers founded Peterloo Poets in Manchester in 1972. Peterloo’s first two full collections published in 1976 were Elma Mitchell’s The Poor Man in the Flesh and Edmond Leo Wright’s The Horwich Hennets. Peterloo Poets went on to publish 240 volumes of poetry.