30 AUGUST 1957, Page 19

Secretary

If I should touch her she would shriek and weeping Crawl off to nurse the terrible wound : all Day like a starling under the bellies of bulls She hurries among men, ducking, peeping, Off in a whirl at the first move of a horn. At dusk she scuttles down the gauntlet of lust Like a clockwork mouse. Safe home at last She mends socks with holes, shirts that are torn, For father and brother, and a delicate supper cooks : Goes to bed early, shuts out with the light Her thirty years, and lies with buttocks tight, Hiding her lovely eyes until day break.

TED HUGHES