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William Greenway 

Chagrin Falls, Memorial Day

If there were no dead
we would create them,
we-walking-by-the-river-named-
for-failure, hands full of each
other, custard, balloons, see them 
before us stratified, water pouring over 
a blessing too late, watch steps down
slick rock, every second maybe an edge.  
Chagrin falls, yes, but does it 
rise again, like spray, like 
plasma shuddering free, and like winter 
breath into night sky, does it gell
in cold space?  Lovers add 
a germ that flies a comet's tail, 
and a yolk begins to pulse in endless dark,
iambic, like a heart of hope and fear.

William Greenway’s Selected Poems is from FutureCycle Press. Both his tenth and eleventh collections won Ohio Poetry Book of the Year Awards. He has published in Poetry, American Poetry Review, Georgia Review, Southern Review, Poetry Northwest, Shenandoah, and Prairie Schooner. He’s Distinguished Professor Emeritus of English at Youngstown State University, but lives now in Ephrata, PA.

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