tell me again how this works. what tools you might use to get deep inside the corm. tell me again how your unshaken hands know what to pinch off and what to preserve. can i ask you questions as they come to me in dreams. will you answer when i call you gasping, nightgown suctioned to my pounding chest, and the long black snakes with the bitter yellow stripes are surrounding the van. tell me again about interiors. how you go about assessing the raveled structures. what’s underneath. what can be salvaged. tell me again why mine need replacing and why the man with the billowy dahlias has offered me one of his. after the sowing may i crouch to preen the darling sunflowers. can you tell me about the smell (iron horses). the taste (copper pennies heaped inside my mouth). tell me again about the blue angel resting on the edge of the white basin, her wan patina fingers kneading the veins that have miraculously taken root inside me.