'english literature'
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An anathema
Is a curse, a stain, a mark
On the whatever
A horrid wretched thing
Vile and disgusting
Evil and sinful
And yet
I can’t write
A anathema
I have to write
A false memory
The chessboard, the white knight
Almost in the same instant
Victory
An enormous volume of noise
Even as it started
News had run round the streets like magic
