ROMANCE Poem: The Summer Before, by Pigeon Pranckevicius

My love is awkward like
a grown woman reaching for the head of a dog
as it walks by her.

The love caught, in the moment
of missing his head and still reaching
and still grasping for the meat of his neck or
the wet center of his nose.

There is an innocent strangeness to this that I have forgotten since childhood.
It is safer than getting it right the first time
and every time after,
But more real than never trying at all.

dedication: “dog in the ocean” or maybe “puppy love”

Author: poetryfest

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