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.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *