Gift   By Chanel Brenner

Gift
By Chanel Brenner

I became a mother when Riley was born. I became a poet when he died. His death and writing poetry are intertwined like the malformed vessels of his AVM and his brain—rooted, inseparable as a banyan and its host tree. If Riley hadn’t died, I would not be writing...
Minimum Wage  By Carolyn McGrath

Minimum Wage
By Carolyn McGrath

It was snowing when Bess woke and turned off the alarm. She could see large flakes falling in the dim early light. She slipped from the covers and, shivering, pulled on a robe, collected her clothes and opened the bedroom door. It squawked just as it had a few hours...
On Leaving Iran

On Leaving Iran

The plane ascends. Women disrobe, crossing into Turkey’s airspace.    Their hair cascades like waterfalls. I lift my skirt to let my legs breathe. So much sin is compressed   between my teeth & my toes! I stride over the pavement. The wind runs through...
Meet  Memoirist  Alice Bloch

Meet Memoirist Alice Bloch

Alice Bloch is the author of Mother-Daughter Banquet: A Memoir, the winner of our 2018 memoir contest. Her prolific writing career includes the memoir Lifetime Guarantee, the novel The Law of Return, and publication in several anthologies.  She also wrote a column for...
What We’re Reading this Summer

What We’re Reading this Summer

It’s no secret that our staff loves books. Reading is our superpower.  We read submissions for Minerva Rising and tons of books and journals for our own personal edification.  Here’s what we’ve been reading over the summer: Brooke —...
The Stories We Tell

The Stories We Tell

By Holly Day I feel the wings flutter under my skin as I tell them about my childhood, about how things were before I had children of my own. I hint at the type of insect I was make it more beautiful—I was a butterfly, a damselfly a fluorescent leaf-hopper, something...
Square Dancing in a Round Life

Square Dancing in a Round Life

  By Marti Rhode   All I want now is a pair of turquoise cowgirl boots. You know what kind, the ones with doily stitching around the top, and pointed, cowgirl toes. I want one of those twirling skirts with white rick-rack trim, and fringe, somewhere.  ...
View from a Different Chair

View from a Different Chair

By Gail Peck   This new place on the second floor I call my tree house. I can’t get used to saying apartment. There are trees all around and a twenty-five-foot balcony. Still, I miss the private backyard we had, especially the Japanese Maples we planted and could...

Pin It on Pinterest

Share This