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An Interview with Sophie Wan

- By Acree Graham Macam

In some ways I regret how I thought about marriage on the day of my wedding, December 7, 2013. At the time, my partner and I believed that God had led us to one another, that divorce could only be a tragic last resort, and that it was my husband’s role as a man to be the “leader” in our family.

Ten years and a fundamental shift in beliefs later, somewhat impossibly, we’re still together. We changed in many of the same ways at roughly the same times, and our relationship supported those changes rather than cracking beneath them. Now, with two young children, we relate to one another on a day-to-day basis largely as co-parents. Sometimes I think our wedding—with its tealight-topped tables, signature cocktails, and professional photographer—set...


10 Questions for Abby Manzella

- By Franchesca Viaud

On November 1, 2012—over ten years ago now—I awake to the sound of a generator . . . in another, wealthier building. It is Day Four of the blackout. I cover my nose from the chill in my unheated and lightless apartment. My husband, already awake, wraps his arms around me and gives a quick squeeze. The warmth from his body accentuates the cold of the air. 

“It’s time to e-scavenge,” he whispers in my ear. We are co-conspirators, taking new actions and finding new words for this strange, new moment. 

I grumble against the intrusion of the morning. Still, I know it’s time to face the day, so I slip out of my husband’s embrace and our bed into the cold air of our once perpetually overheated apartment.

MR Jukebox

2024 Anne Halley Prize Reading

- By Staff

Nathan McClain and Abigail Chabitnoy have selected Michael Lavers' poem "Sun, Birds, and Leaves" from MR's Summer 2023 issue (Vol. 64, Issue 2) for the prestigious prize.

MICHAEL LAVERS is the author of After Earth and The Inextinguishable, both published by the University of Tampa Press. His poems have appeared in ...


10 Questions for Kayla Min Andrews

- By Franchesca Viaud

I'm home from work, reading in bed, when Mom calls to tell me. It’s six in the evening. My boyfriend’s out with some friends of his I find exhausting. He’s often out, while I stay in. We’ve been together for almost a decade, our rituals of avoidance calcified into habit. 

I live in New Orleans. Mom lives in Asheville, North Carolina. We talk several times a week. Ususally she makes me laugh with her sparkling anger at a co-worker, a hilarious gaffe she made with a student, juicy details of a power struggle either in her own romantic life or a friend's. Usually when she asks how I'm doing, I deflect. I say something quick—oh, pretty good—and try to get her talking again. 

This time, her voice trembles. Her latest scan...


10 Questions for Patrick Donnelly

- By Franchesca Viaud


“If it’s true, Chloris, that you love me,
and I’ve heard you do love me well—”
was a fresh way for you to begin.
After that you lost the thread a bit,
scorning ambrosia and the prospect
of trading places with kings if my love
were sure. (No kings were offering.)
from "Anti-Pastorals," Volume 65, Issue 1 (Spring 2024)

Tell us about one of the first pieces you wrote.
My mom read poetry and gave me the idea that poets do estimable work. I knew which poets were her favorites—Chaucer, Yeats, Pound, and, weirdly, Swinburne. So as a kid I tried to write poetry and would come to her with my efforts; it was one currency of a relationship that...

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