Does anybody know where
one can get a decent eunuch
these days?
Baggy pants, scimitar, turned-up toes,
are of no consequence.
I only want a big one, strong,
to handle boxes
of feminist writing
and not to find the exercise exciting.
He is to be companion
to a lady among Leavisites
and read to her my book of Larkin poems;
old Oxford toad
is staid enough
but, even he, there is a risk,
if seen through high windows,
might be a bit shocking
to some new blue-stocking.
He should be skilled,
this eunuch chap,
in making tea and toast,
and keeping hot the water bot.
He will, in general, ‘Do’ for her,
and guard her when she goes out on the High
in case she might, naively, buy
something sexy or deathly
by Fiona Pitt-Kethley.
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