by Matthew Travieso Williams —
Fall recalled the heat of summer,
the stroke of sun fell heavy as a ﬁst.
Walked the path behind the kept hedges.
In the chain-link, a hole was rent
to permit a man on hands and knees.
Read your message again:
My wife’s in Monterey. Meet me in the ﬁeld
behind the park. I’ll take you for dinner.
Tender-palmed, crawled through bur clover
into ﬁlaree, wild radish, wild oats, and foxtail. All gold
and one incendiary touch from ash.
Hugged the fence and met strangers’ backyards:
a sterile pool become fecund with a scum of fallen leaves.
a girl leaping from a swing set, her parachuted skirt.
a busy cloud of ﬂies attending the unclaimed
fruit broken beneath an apple tree.
A few branches arced over the fence.
I stole into the bank of shade.