Indelicacy

by Amina Cain

I both liked and disliked going to work.

Here are my wrists. Sitting at my desk, I feel loving toward my wrists. I’ve made them do too much.

can’t write when things are dirty, when things are scattered around. I need everything to be clear. I need them to be clean.

And maybe more important, I began to feel that I could see my writing—not the words or the paintings—somehow in between. That I had made a new thing.

Maybe I have always needed things to be softened, as things are softened for children. If I were honest about who I am more of the time, I would write more honest things.

If I wasn’t polite, I was awkward.

He liked to watch me do this, dress and undress. At such moments he always seemed to appear.

Yep They hve radar

We cycle in and out of different ways of being, of appearing in the world.