Judgment by Dheepa Maturi I know the angle from which to pull the threads from my skin. I know how to twist and anchor them on shards of my bone, how to unwind my organs and entrails — and thoughts — how to weave them all into jagged tapestry. It takes practice, but I've been doing this for awhile. You do not notice as I spiral my arms and fling the cloth. You do not notice as it descends over your face, torso, feet. At last, I can comprehend you through the underbelly of my organs, through the kinks in my dermis. You aren't kind, and you don't love me. Your words stretch and distort around the edges. I don't feel your pulse or your breath, but I see you. About the poet: “I am the director of a nonprofit fund in Indianapolis and a graduate of the University of Michigan (A.B. English Literature) and the University of Chicago. My poems and essays have appeared in Every Day Poems, Tweetspeak Poetry, A Tea
Flying Island is the Online Literary Journal of the Indiana Writers Center, accepting submissions from Midwest residents and those with significant ties to the Midwest.