where do phones go when they die?

what kind of god
makes a body measured in
percentages of breath--

i know that you
will wake up again 
but i would feel better
to know where you go--

we pretend are iPhones
aren't are most intimate 
lovers--

inside my pocket
i grip her body
in my right hand--

cold body--
smooth body--
gentle body--

mirror mirror lover
what do you see
me in today?
your eyes filter 
me-- fill me claredon
lark--slumber--valencia  
ink well-- moon--
how many colors
do you see in me--
oh & if i could only
see them in myself--

i guess it's the 
impermanence of
your small deaths
that makes me contemplate
my own--
you wake up again--
you remember me--
even if only faintly

maybe in the darkness
behind your screen
you listened to 
me voice echoing through
a night free of stars--
maybe you hear me say
i love i love you
into your receiver--

you feel your body become
one of those phones
with the long curly chords
i twirl my finger around you
& you pretend that you 
are the lover on the other
line-- you tell me
to lay on my back with you
& we both look up
at an empty sky--

maybe you wonder if
you'll ever wake up--
if this sleep will be eternal--
& maybe you would
hang my photographs
up around your body--
every where you would
turn would be my voice--
an echo echo 
echo of my hand
around your body

& just like that
you taste air--
taste electricity
spicy like red hot sauce
dripped onto your tongue--

you blink
you blink 

hello again