An Open Letter to A Hand That Takes by Layla Salomon (20, Texas)

They say the fairest thing in life is death 
but it’s a lie, isn’t it? Like “I did my
homework” or “I’ll be home by dusk”— 
                                              he was seventeen, ​

---

with freckles and acne 
and hair as red as the blood on your hands; 
threads of fate severed by a text message 
and a palm full of pills, oblivion behind the eyes— 

​ told his brother I was sorry, but 
what is ‘sorry’ when the table is covered in packs of
Takis, his soccer team is receiving communion in
uniform, and everything, everything is so absolutely
fucked— 
​
but you watch from above, unapologetic, 
Ave María in the air, 
stained glass sun burning teenage skin. 
​