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Mira Chiruvolu

Mira ChiruvoluMira Chiruvolu is a 16-year-old, born and raised in California. She is in the 10th grade, and an avid reader. She loves to write, specifically poetry and short stories. When not writing she enjoys playing basketball and running outside as much as possible. Her writing style leans towards grander themes about life, including courage, bravery, love, loss, etc. Her portfolio is a conglomeration of stories, poems, thoughts, and pieces that she has created over the course of her life.


she called my brother by another name:
see the pain caught around his pupil
as she sat upright on her bathroom floor.
after a long day of kicking the door shut with
her knees, I guided her back.
her shadow couldn’t recognize
who she was under the baggy clothes hiding
her spine. she didn’t use her words to fight
like that, but as we all trickled through the doorway
she heard a chant surrounding her frail body, one that
filled sounds in crevices mute before.
her face dampened by the slight deluge
sunk underneath the linen comforter.
I have breast cancer. 
raindrops shivered down her thin frame,
her words metastasizing our forgotten scabs.

I remember shivering in the downpour alone
trying to fathom how
there can be billions of us in this world
and the lightning chose her.

Testing Stories

it’s often a soliloquy
the darkening moonlight
voices trailing behind bodies

and I limp alongside
the conjoining faces
of a store-bought choir

the cheap pitches
and tempos
rashes of misplaced
warning signs

and i want to feel less
another peon
in the captivating
field of dusty flowers

rubber ticks its way
onto the clefts of my face
sticking like worn-out

except, I can’t tire
an inborn wonderment
the fine delicacy
of a receipt
burned onto baby skin

and so, i run
into door handles
into window sills
into the ribs of your curtains

caution wraps itself around
the nearest light pole
waiting for me
to greet the night
with a misplaced grunt

trees clear
shales the wicked
and we all fall back
to sleep.

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