2 tun truck
Sophie Robinson

love isn’t something you can find or count
is just a mist you walk in & out of:
a heavy kind of air. & cannot be
put away put to work or made useful
during the day. it diffuses & bends
normal light. some nights your head & breasts
get heavy – droop & ache – your stomach hurts
you feel homesick for nowhere & you long
to put love away for good – to keep
the air clean & the light straight. or simply
to enact controlled simulations of love:
the tedious personalities of
corporate apparatus // a machine
that gives you money & takes up all
your time. but you can’t stop
at anything short of crying at the dining
table, heart again an empty plate
& the hungry cunt of love breaking
down the door or breaking on the shore
of our whole stupid history
of not loving each other
as good as we probably
should’ve done