Knave 
by Joan McNerney 

Full of himself flaunting

his black leather jacket

covered with silver studs. 

 

Bling hangs from his bulging neck.

Flashy zircons, deep cologne,

tattoos, piercings, purple hair.

 

Puffed up, he struts across alleys.

Headlight eyes scoping 

each corner searching prey.

 

Pushing down anything 

in his way.  Sniffing rear

doors, sniffing out death. 

 

His hands move like claws 

through shadows with

crooked nails buffed blue.

 

Lugging a bag of tricks loaded 

with brass knuckles,  chains,

zip guns, switchblade  knives.

 

Opening his cavern mouth, 

smacking wide lips, he drains

a cool cocktail of ruby red blood.

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