Taj Mahal
For Sudeep Sen
I know how grateful you were for myconfession. I, too, had been trusted, I, too,desired, and felt the other mess of need,the clumsy psychology of powerand uselessness. I, too, had betrayed,had confessed, had faced her wailrushing down the hallwaylike a terrible wind fillingwith the breathlessness of fearand horror at the way everythingin me collapsed to see her imaginingthe end of the world; her anger,yes, but mostly her soft sobbingafter midnight, the tears—dear Lord—and no hope of solace. It had not yet beena year, and the wounds were still tender,and I travelled with fear like a leaderfearing a coup in his absence. Still,we, on that excursion to Agra, stood outsidethe walls of the Taj Mahal, in the sun, bareas nakedness, with white and brindledmongrels skulking about…