Budge, Halifax Dock, Nova Scotia, 1911.

You didn't budge, Budge
When you put the parcels
On the Liverpool Boat
One twice the size as the other
Or twice as old,
Three years old, the bigger,
Ticket thoughtfully sewn to her lapel
Same for her eighteen-month brother.

Did you budge, Budge,
When the heavy hull of the ship
Stretched from the quayside
A piece of toffee slowly pulled
In twain to stop the mouths
Of two children? The twin note
Of the solemn horn, did it make you think
Of mama as you refolded your handkerchief?

Did you budge from the quayside
Budge, when the last wail
Of the hooter sounded
It's deep boom off the harbour echo,
And the oily waters shook a little
And the big shape of the boat
Crawled out into a tiny 'gone',
Swallowed by the Atlantic?

Had you budged from your spot, Budge?
By time the Purser guessed something
Amiss, those unattended children:
Care of Captain, lonely voyage to Liverpool
Beyond, while the sad advertisements
Placed in all the daily papers
Until at last your mother saw randomly
A picture of her grandchildren, knew their faces.

No, you didn't budge, Budge.
You've been standing there all along
Forced to gaze the black horizon,
Or staring at your outmoded Oxford Ties,
Scuffing the greasy cobbles of Nova Scotia:
Merry Widow, Black Widow,
My pen pins you there forever,
In punishment, and desperate sympathy.