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| Ted Hughes |
(1957)
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| 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 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 her 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. |
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