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
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem