1. My mother was an English major at Wellesley in the late 60s. On the bookshelf in our house, she kept all of her poetry books from the classes she took: John Donne, T.S. Eliot, W.B.
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I loathe you
But I will let you pass
Through me. Your
Stupidity smeared all over me
Your hot breath in my ear
Tonight I am the only door
Through which you can be made
To disappear
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