Questions for the Resume Workshop

Is owning a funeral dress something I should list on my resume?

As a recent college grad, I’m nervous about finding a job, and I can’t help but wonder what parts of my life are applicable skills that I should be listing on my LinkedIn.

It’s black and grey paisley with long sleeves and a high collar. I’ve only worn it a few times like my senior thesis presentation, my grandfather’s funeral, and my uncle’s funeral. It was originally meant to be just a presentation outfit, but when you’re a poor college student, sometimes things have to serve dual uses.

Can I put on my resume that I wrote my uncle’s eulogy?

Read the rest on (mac)ro(mic)



i am drawing petals on my thighs
carving out their outlines
peeling back the flaps of skin
until my body blooms
all the while praying
for pollen instead of
blood inside me
so a bee will come to me
make love to me
turn me into honey

I watched ants consume a cricket on the floor of my apartment

they detached the back leg
from its joint,
pulling it out with
a pop.
they crawl away,
tugging at it as they go,
dragging the desecrated limb
from its corpse,
from its home.
they cheered,
antenna bobbing,
as they tore muscles
into smaller
and smaller chunks
until they each carried a piece
covered with saliva and bile
between their mandibles
to their queen

NaPoWriMo / GloPoWriMo Day 30

I tattooed a bouquet for my body

soft tendrils of honeysuckle
curling around branches of
oak, black poplar, and cedar
along my forearm
i pressed needles into my skin
till they touched my bones,
carving into them
the edges of leaves
and curves of petals
so that i cannot forget
the forests, the flowers,
and the blossoms of my body
National Poetry Writing Month Day 29

Inside the middle school band hall

different notes, different
frequencies, different songs –
solos, auditions, concert pieces –
every corner of the room reverberating
with sound
and sound
and sound
till words no longer
Day 16 of Na/GloPoWriMo
Prompt: a poem that features the idea of play.
This poem features the playing of music. It was inspired by my day subbing as a middle school band teacher. As a side note, I left the day with a headache but the music was beautiful.

My face is made up of poems I forgot to write

My relationship with myself has been
a lot of lipstick smudges on coffee shop mugs
and half-formed poems written
in journals I’ll never fill up.
I’ve forgotten my name a time or two
and I don’t always recognize my body
in the mirror in my bathroom.

I wonder if my blog
has become more of an
autobiography because I’m too
egotistical to let my memory be forgotten
whenever I die (something I’m afraid will
happen any day now – a car crash, a fire,
a suicide), so I try to explain
why I am the way I am
in similes and metaphors
because I don’t know how any other way
or how to make my lips form
the names of depression, anxiety,
selfishness, or otherwise.
My fingers have started bleeding at night
from trying to climb the walls
in my sleep because
they’re beginning to feel
more and more like the sides of a coffin
and I haven’t written enough poems yet.
Day 18 Na/GloPoWriMo

the watcher of my body

i am only the observer
to the blanketing gardens
that cover my thighs,
never the gardener, my hands
not steady enough
to plant seeds nor saplings
i turned my body over
to the queen, the bumblebees
so they might pollinate me,
make flowers from my skin,
pull honey from my diseased body,
bring me into their hive
and have their larvae feast upon
the poems i never wrote, the history
i never told, the flowers
i never had the courage to name.
Day 13 of Na/GloPoWriMo