Untitled by Richard Rivera

For Aurelio

September had undone
our summer
and trans
what little there was left
of your scent
on my
A dog howls and
moans from
the park
while he’s
I can hear
and maybe
there’s another
but they sound the same
and they scream the
same and they
hurt the

by Richard Rivera

Editor’s Note: The best imagistic poetry cuts open the body and exposes the heart. This poem uses an extended metaphor to show loss in all of its brutal sorrow.

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