Landlocked

I hope you know,
the pixels cannot capture you.
The screen attempts a crude retelling
of dimples like M&Ms
and edges like art nouveau.

I hope you know
how hard I've tried
to tenderly tug your form to mine
to lift your chin up to the light
to hold you through the phone.

One day I'll know 
the parts the camera cannot catch
the yearning at the nape of your neck,
the sympathy in the center of your palms,
the secrets your whispers disclose.

And when we meet
I will speak gracelessly
pleated to the shape of airplane seats.
My heart a rag rung out,
will fold into yours at our first hello.