Tathagata Banerjee
I have wondered in the snowcity diaries
Collecting dust and hope and ghosts of dead memories
The roads that had bought midsummer names home
Have shared a few laughs and moved on
I and the midnight sky have shared with each other
Long kept closely held cold secrets
Of lanes that shared unbelievable storytimes
In the Cartesian arc of a fall-apart civilization
I think and hope and believe.
In the midnight, stories you and I have shared
And then pretended to have forgotten last names
The farewell coffee cups
Your hands too reluctant for the last sip
In the dawn, when I and the Mad Prince played Claudius chess
I always got confused about my Rooks and Pawns and Queen
In a room full of glass mask I’ve looked for reflection
Like a vampire in denial
And as I have searched for me in your farewell scars
I nicknamed you – nonlover – Lacan.