Noir four

Following on from here, the fourth (final?) part of this noir story-in-verse, each from a different participant's perspective...

Colour me Noir IV: The Suitcase

The click of my catch
is the revolver’s hammer,
thumb-cocked to snuff some poor dope.

The thud as I’m dropped
is the blackjack’s kiss on a sap’s skull –
hug that sidewalk, John Doe.

The first line of light
as my lid opens is the crack
of a KO’d boxer’s swollen eye.

Whoever I see,
witness, killer or corpse,
they’re all my victims in the end –
I am a mirror not of glass.