The Phone/Smartphone Symbol in God I Feel Modern Tonight

What Is the Phone / Smartphone as a Symbol?

In Catherine Cohen’s 2021 debut poetry collection God I Feel Modern Tonight, the smartphone appears as a concrete, everyday object—a device for calls, texts, social media, and web searches. But across the poems, it transcends its physical form to become a recurring symbol of modern dependency, distraction, and performative selfhood. The speaker’s phone is never neutral; it is charged with anticipation, anxiety, intimacy, and avoidance. It functions as both a tool for connection and a shield against genuine presence.

Where Does the Phone Recur? A Look at Key Appearances

The smartphone appears in at least seven distinct poems, each time carrying a slightly different emotional weight. The table below summarizes the most significant recurrences:

The phone also appears in passing in other poems—for instance, the speaker notes that “tweeting makes anything political” (chapter 1) and that Instagram posts are a gauge of heterosexuality (chapter 9). Together, these moments build a portrait of a life lived through a screen.

How the Meaning of the Phone Shifts

1. From Anticipation to Dread

In chapter 2, checking the phone is something to look forward to: “I can’t wait to check my phone.” The line appears alongside fantasies about the future (late therapy sessions, seated without the full party), suggesting that the phone offers a welcome escape from present discomfort. But in chapter 9, the same act becomes terrifying: “sometimes I feel like / if I look at my phone / I will die / or even worse, not die.” Here the phone is a portal to an unbearable digital reality—perhaps bad news, social comparison, or the weight of constant connectivity. The shift shows how the symbol toggles between hope and dread.

2. A Tool for Avoidance

In chapter 2, the speaker uses her phone to distract herself from the monotony of a stuck subway car and the discomfort of therapy. She asks her therapist why she should grow; the therapist says she will suffer less, but the speaker is skeptical. The phone becomes a means of postponing emotional work. Similarly, in chapter 17, she is “looking for somewhere to charge my phone”—the search for a power outlet mirrors a search for a lifeline, a way to stay tethered to the digital world rather than engage with the person she’s with.

3. An Intimate Companion

In chapter 51, the phone is part of the speaker’s private, solitary morning: “another exquisite morning on my phone.” She scrolls, she watches porn, she considers diet and food. The phone fills the space of a partner, offering comfort and stimulation without the complications of another person. In chapter 8, the speaker masturbates while wearing AirPods, merging technology with the most intimate act. The smartphone is no longer just a screen; it is a prosthetic for loneliness.

4. A Mirror for Anxiety

In chapters 16 and 48, the phone becomes a diagnostic tool. The speaker Googles stroke symptoms after a stranger’s comment, and she wonders, “is there an app for that?” regarding the disconnect between her sharp mind and soft body. The phone amplifies health anxiety and the desire for a quick fix to existential discomfort. It also becomes a site of social comparison: in chapter 63, a company unfollows her on Instagram, and in chapter 1, tweeting turns everything political. The phone reflects the speaker’s fragile sense of belonging in a digital attention economy.

Connections to Characters and Themes

The Speaker

The phone is an extension of the speaker’s performative self. In chapter 17, she says, “I can’t write if no one is watching”—the phone provides an audience through social media. She performs for likes and validation, yet the phone also isolates her: checking it during a subway ride or beside a partner replaces real interaction. The symbol ties directly to the theme of Performance and Authenticity.

The Lover / Ex-Boyfriend

The phone mediates romantic relationships. In chapter 51, the speaker watches porn on her phone while her partner is out of town. In chapter 9, the ex-boyfriend’s Instagram activity (posting a building) is used as a litmus test for his sexuality. The phone becomes a way to spy on, compare, and indirectly engage with former and current partners.

The Therapist

In chapter 2, the speaker fantasizes about being late to therapy and immediately wants to check her phone—suggesting that the device offers a more appealing escape than the work of self-improvement. The phone represents resistance to growth.

Themes

• Modern Anxiety and Discontent: The phone fuels constant comparison, FOMO, and health anxiety. The speaker’s Googling and Instagram-scrolling are symptoms of a broader unease.
• Digital Culture and Social Media: The phone is the gateway to this culture. It enables the speaker to perform, seek validation, and track exes.
• Body Image and Self-Critique: The phone is used to search for health information and to consume diet content, reinforcing the speaker’s obsession with her body.
• Love and Disconnection: The phone substitutes for direct intimacy. The speaker watches porn, texts, and Instagram-stalks exes, avoiding the messiness of real connection.

Four Study Questions with Answers

Q1: Why does the speaker say she would “die or even worse, not die” if she looks at her phone in chapter 9?

The line captures the paradox of modern digital life. The phone holds the potential for devastating news (a breakup, a bad review, a political crisis) that might feel like death. But “even worse, not die” suggests a more terrifying possibility: enduring the digital onslaught without escape—continuing to scroll, compare, and feel inadequate. The phone traps the speaker in a state of anxious limbo.

Q2: How does the phone function as a symbol of avoidance in the collection?

In chapter 2, the speaker admits she “can’t wait to check my phone” immediately after describing a therapy session she wants to be late for. The phone offers a distraction from the difficult work of growth. In chapter 17, searching for a charger mirrors her avoidance of the present moment with a companion. The phone becomes a reliable excuse to disengage from discomfort.

Q3: In what ways does the phone represent both connection and isolation?

The phone connects the speaker to a wider world—she can Google, tweet, follow friends, and watch porn. Yet these digital interactions often replace face-to-face intimacy. In chapter 51, the speaker has an “exquisite morning on my phone” alone, and in chapter 8, she masturbates with AirPods, merging technology with solitary pleasure. The device offers a semblance of connection while deepening her isolation.

Q4: How does the phone relate to the theme of performance and authenticity?

The speaker’s phone is a stage. She performs for an online audience (tweeting, Instagramming) and curates a digital self. In chapter 1, she notes that “tweeting makes anything political,” implying that every post is a performance with consequence. Yet the phone also reveals authentic anxieties (Googling symptoms, checking for ex’s engagement). The symbol blurs the line between performed identity and genuine self—a core tension in the collection.

Conclusion

In God I Feel Modern Tonight, the phone/smartphone is far more than a prop. It is a charged symbol that encapsulates the speaker’s modernity: her dependency on digital validation, her avoidance of emotional work, her intimate solitude, and her constant low-grade anxiety. Cohen’s speaker lives through and on her phone, and the device becomes a mirror of the restless, performing, disconnected self that defines the collection’s world. For readers, the phone offers a concrete entry point into the poem’s central themes—making it one of the most resonant symbols in the book.