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The Beachcomber


 He picks up the things from the sea.

  He finds only what he must find, what is offered.


Deep ocean whelks on the planks of old ships,

   Korean crisp packets, the vertebrae of a whale after storms in the kelp.

 Old boots. Strange nuts. Tangled nets. A lobster pot, smashed.


And only once, in the dusk. Phosphorus,

                 where the moon churned the shingle at high water, under starlight.

Freezing cold. December.

    With the Seven Sisters overhead and silence but for the universe.


Pete Chambers is a 42 year old poet from Cornwall. He enjoys knocking off early to mess around on the beach with his little boy. He likes drinking too much and slow dancing round the flat to Portishead with his partner, Emily. In the summer the three of them go swimming in the sea together, splashing around in far away coves.

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