messing around with wordplay

we spoke briefly on the phone today,
digits interweaving in invisible webs
while my fingers
caressed your voice through a telepathic connection
drawn out between our temples like a portrait

and I kissed your diction through the air;
worshiped your tongues like a deity
kneeling at the edges of altars
that sang benedictions about language
at your service the way that I
would serve you by wrapping my legs around you
in a heart beat

let drum and bass pulsate
through your veins; screw
and scratch
you like a record
from the deep south,
pick you like cotton until
the thorns ate my raw hands away

and I would be left with no way to call you