How? Poem by Prathibha Nandakumar

Did I unwind al of my
binding six yards
carefully chosen by him
like a snake uncoiling?

Did I reveal in a careless
or calculated casualness
the unmentionable?

Then how come you know
of all the bruises and black marks
on all my most intimate parts
hidden well under the six yards?

I don't know, but why did you,
didn't you, by the end of the second cup
tremble, remembering a woman in rage?

Prathibha Nandakumar