in your grandfather’s knotted old rolex,
i left a piece of myself in the reflection.
there’s sadness in the grime of that mirror;
rub your fingertips on the brass and there’s
pink lotion, bacon grease and salty stink.
but if you scrub it clean with stale prayers
below the glass there is a revelation —
it’s everything i didn’t have vocal chords for,
all of the secrets, half truths and promises.
other than you and the dog, it’s all i own.
it’s all i have. and i can’t hold onto it anymore.
when i die, burn it and free all our namesakes.
Jamilla VanDyke-Bailey is a 27-year-old, Black feminist living with depression, anxiety, PTSD, and bipolar disorder II. She uses her writing to give a voice to the trauma that is often suffered in silence and to bring a sense of belonging amongst the misfits. She has had work published in The Southhampton Review, K’in Literary Journal, and Oddball Magazine, amongst others