Two poems by jamilla vandyke-bailey

resurrection as a verb for love

i love you because you let

me kneed jojoba

paste on top of the dead skin

around your ankles.

i turned nocturnal to hear

you mumble about shipwrecks,

gravediggers, and going mad.

you became the moon.

i counted every birthmark,

put mud into your

stitches, and held your hand so

that you could die right.

free like the afterglow of

stars dancing over the sea.

free like before the cancer.

like how i loved you.

secure me in a prayer

when the moon came, my body dropped into

the sheets like sandbags filled with beach and bones.

i called you instead of an ambulance --

i didn’t want my eyes to roll back and

only find white tubes and dirty needles.

i didn’t want to leave alone and strange.

i called because i needed a healing

that sinks deeper than flesh wounds and mind rot.

i needed a prayer to rid me of

this ache that haunts me and keeps haunting, some call

it living, but i’m done with it. ready

to be free and weightless wildfire like god.

jamilla vandyke-bailey (@alli.maj) is a pro-black feminist poet and essayist. her poetry chapbook, “than we have been,” (Weasel Press, 2022) and her full-length book of poetry, “the womxn,” (Finishing Line Press, 2023) are currently available for purchase.