A package of skin, a blister of garden, which has been here before,
which I stand for, which I stand in for. My mother stands in the
garden. She says, I can’t hear you. She says, is this a weed or not.
The phone rings and it’s for my mother, but she won’t come inside,
so I stand in for her. Is this a weed or not, she says, holding up the
blistered plant.

We package ourselves to the doctor. I have symptoms, and what’s
more, I have signs. What are your symptoms, the doctor asks me.
Her symptoms are X, Y, Z, my mother answers.