My Roof by John Greiner

Under the cloud my roof is ravaged.
I cannot sleep starring up at the tin and tinsel.
Call it heaven, call it Christmas.
This is my Hollywood with its back lots of rape
that tongue the dimensions of the lost lips ash lacquered.
Behind shades I lose sight of the  principle
which could have served perfection as a scenario,
admittedly, one amongst many, but one all the same.
Now I am left with not even the last truth.
The children come at me with hockey sticks.
Their wrath was born out of the sight
of the yellow stains on the plastic
vampire fangs, jaw clenched by their fathers
long after Halloween and trick or treat passed.
They are the boys and girls of love and Budweiser.
They are the answer to the ambitions of the United Nations.
They are the euphoria of the mothers of the outer boroughs.
With my John F. Kennedy matchbook I illuminate.
I chant Jack Ruby's last will and testament over
the hazel eyes of Lee Harvey Oswald's visions.
In the end, the day will be given to the assassins
and field goal kickers of the moon soaked
fourth quarter after all the hot dog vendors
have fled to the Coney Island of Nathan's mind.
I take a seat on the front porch that reverberates
with the last radio waves and wait for the cock
to crow while eating a chicken pot pie.
The Wonder Bread billboard ad enchants passing headlights.

John Greiner is a Pushcart Prize nominated writer living in Queens, NY. He was educated at the New School for Social Research.  Greiner's work has appeared in Sand, Empty Mirror, Sensitive Skin, Unarmed, Street Valueand numerous other magazines. His chapbooks, broadsides and collections of poetry and short stories includeTurnstile Burlesque (Crisis Chronicles Press, 2017), The Laundrymen(Wandering Head Press, 2016), Bodega Roses (Good Cop/Bad Cop Press, 2014),Modulation Age (Wandering Head Press, 2012), Shooting Side Glances(ISMs Press, 2011) and Relics From a Hell’s Kitchen Pawn Shop (Ronin Press, 2010).