Patricia Coral
[CREATIVE NONFICTION] Dinnerware Today I saw a spoon in my purse and it reminded me of you. A spoon. Your spoons were burned at the bottom, a black uneven circl...
[CREATIVE NONFICTION] Dinnerware Today I saw a spoon in my purse and it reminded me of you. A spoon. Your spoons were burned at the bottom, a black uneven circl...
Cupcakes i. Dichen was a demi-girl; I don’t regret her like I do the rest. We almost had sex and woke the baby up, and her lips were soft and shiny against mine...
[CREATIVE NONFICTION] Flea I am being proposed to and all I can think of are the panic attacks I had the summer before grad school. In my mind, I am in a restro...
Dorian J. Sinnott is an Emerson College graduate, currently residing in upstate New York with his bossy cat. When he's not focused on his own stories, Dori...
[FICTION] The Gulf Stream Only one time, as a child, you swim in the ocean. “It’s a gulf, not an ocean,” he says. The salt air r...
[FICTION] The Butterfly Clasp Dorothy’s free-standing closet, equipped with drawers on one side and thus technically a chifforobe, had begun to fall apart soon ...
That first night I burned inside your mouth, inside your pool of tongue-held Tabasco, and after the exchange of oils you suggested milk and I told you I wa...
They called themselves Ladybird. Where they were from ladybirds weren't a thing. Ladybugs were. But they liked the sound of Ladybird.
Any time of day. Long sleeves leaking over hands. Gray sweatshirts’ warmth hugs when arms are absent, surrounds shoulders up to the neck so that cold air a...
I have a lover and he sends me messages that no one else can see. The last I heard from him, he told me to come find him. You know where, he said. I’ve bee...