Conferencing

‘Mummy, read me a story’ keeps me home.
‘Mummy, play with me’ jails me.
‘Mummy, feed me’ grounds me.
‘Mummy, hug me’ imprisons me.

Everyone I want to meet is conferencing
at the other end of the earth, discussing,
jargon slipping deliciously from their mouths,
thrilling to the shock of physical presence,
clamour, colour, eyes, legs, arms,
chatting in matching shirts, sending me
a few vague photos, emailing me
a breathless story, black letters in a white window
and their joy drives drunk across the distance
but the hunger takes me
and I say someday,
someday,
someday,
I’ll turn this Internet romance real.

What do you think?