Exquisite Corpse, Fall 2025

Love & Squalor Editorial Team

Sometimes I wear my sweatpants like they’re footie pajamas.

Then, I roll them up and wish I had the will to shave one leg.

My leg is very prickly. Like a cactus

Or a sea urchin, but it’s hard to say.

It is, at least, something with a spine.

Not like the boy on the train or the creature that stung

Or the ocean that parted, and the oak leaves that crunch beneath my feet.

That ocean spat on my feet, on my tummy, on my face—what birthed this feeling?

And the sand was hot beneath me

Raining on the people in hell so heavenly

There due so many hours dedicated to this dream

Un-sleeping, full of light and strawberries.

This is the quickest way to the store I used to shoplift from.

Today there is Raisin Bran—I never was a corn flake girl.