I knew him from the old Division,
snake charmer handicap.
The one who always stood
behind the one who did the talking.

Violence never got in behind
his eyes. Just the meat hook
he kept in his inside pocket.

The same face he’d had when he dug
his first grave at seventeen.

“The last of the angry young men”
someone nodded, soon to die themselves.
One question he would never ask
an insight that surprised.

They said that once he’d broke a suspect's jaw.
It’s true I met her once. Her tongue
she bit through that herself.

He made Detective early but he didn’t trust
the light. Only now I don’t think
he was angry at all.

Most days, I think his heart was singing praise.