Untitled by Richard Rivera

For Aurelio

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

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.