death-hand

I once killed a quail when I was eight

never meant to,

I was just trying to pick one of the eggs 

with the help of a stick 

I watched her getting dizzy so I took her 

held her in my hands and I prayed 

“Please Lord, don’t let her die”

but she did. 

I saw her tiny eyes closing 

so I put her back inside the cage 

and went to see my grandmother

who was peeling oranges like she usually was

I asked her if we went to hell 

for accidentally killing bugs

she knew there was something more to that question

like it usually has

so I had to confess my crime.

That night I cried myself to sleep

thinking about that quail

about the feeling of death 

in the palm of my hands

It turns out I wouldn’t go to hell after all.

I hold a lightning and a pill box

thinking about me 

about the feeling of death

in the palm of my hands.