 | Phone Sex Poetry |
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Phone Sex
by Joseph Matuzak
Sending bodies over wire
water removed
broken further than powder
translated into sound
then reconstituted at destination.
Here is a warm leg turned
into inflection, here
an ear described by a sigh.
Fabric rubbing, soft creak,
and romance
is somewhere nearly there
area codes away
twitching through switches
like a snake biting at a chest
then filling your room
like smoke, a proxied body
that would scatter
at your grasp
or even if you exhale
because all that makes it real
is the slick spark
of electricity that runs
with a hoarse whisper
from there to here.
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I’m having a pretty busy weekend despite my Enforced Vacation, which I may go into at a later date. But I wanted to let you know I was thinking about you; and what better way than with a poem about phone sex? Hmmm. I guess this could be akin to phoning it in, except via the net. Typing it in? Would that be better? Am I phoning or typing it in? Ah, what the heck. At least I (with a little help from PQS) found you a good poem to read.
While the poem describes a type of phone sex to which I don’t particularly ascribe, it certainly hits the nail on the head for plenty of others. So enjoy the pretty phrases and rhythms and pacing .. and who knows? You just might have to make that call.
You can read more of Joseph Matuzak’s poetry HERE, and can listen to an interview and more HERE.
xo, Angela
You know, you always find fun, hot and interesting stuff and share it with your loyal fiends (umm I mean friends).
But, I really miss calling you and hearing you talk nasty and tell me to do likewise. As much as this is fun and thanks, I wanna hear you!
So there, I said it!
I looked at some of his other stuff. Quite the poet with haunting imagery. Thanks for always bringing us sexy and sensual and sophistication and brilliance–all in the same breath.
Which, by the way, is why I’m a fan and I keep coming back.
Not the type of phone sex to which you ascribe? “Electricity conveyed in a hoarse whisper from there to here” seems pretty accurate to me! And I miss those jolts desperately.
Phone sex is sort of ethereal. So in one sense, the poet is right. It IS a lot of electrons that are being lined up on a fiber-optic cable and, so, our fantasy isn’t reality and something ephemeral and transient.
But in another sense there’s also something solid and lasting to it — or at least there is sometimes. After all, it IS a real person on the other end that is theoretically straining her brain, trying to accommodate us, and thus is engaged in orchestrating the arrangement of those electrons. That makes it more than just particle physics.
And, like everyone else that has commented, I like the way Angela orchestrates her electrons. Nobody does it better.