You showed me my twin's feet when he was dead,
Your sailor-husband's feet, your engineer's - how
Cold they felt, how handsome ankle and toe,
Bone-shapes out of our gloomy womb-tangle -
A god's immortal feet, I'll dare to think,
When we scatter his ashes in the North Sea
Off the windy pier at Whitburn Village -
Poseidon, say, who drives his chariot's bronze-
Hoofed horses so headlong over the waves
All the sea-creatures know who it must be
And the sea parts with a kind of happiness
And the axle doesn't even get wet.