Everything is something to you

‘to interpret is to restate the phenomenon, in effect to find an equivalent for it’ – Susan Sontag

My oceanic sideswipe of moulded smile
is everything, is really something to you,

my backwards glance at a sexy guide
is everything that is wrong in me; to you,

hands that float in a dream like a tide
are oh quite something, are everything

you’re feeling in your sex-dream of a child,
everything is something broken to you, acts

that must receive a wide sea of apologies
which mean absolutely everything to you:

that dream-image, my child-lips gone wild,
everything is something symbolic to you,

but your child is inside, blaming the flies,
where everything is hardly visible to you,

where death is silver in between my thighs
and everything is selling something to you,

the analogy watching the child as it cries.
Everything, watching you with its mouth,

its dark equivalent, is something to you