Darkly Passing Poem by Tiffany Koch

Darkly Passing



Legs sway with dust.

Withdrawal precedes negation.

It's nothing to me, anyways.

Anything to silence the placid chatter.


The piece of jaw rests upon the table where it dines always.
Nothing happens there save engorgement and putrifaction.
Aghast the performance of any colloquiations,
I'm an angel asking you to please keep your head off.
Seconds commute for that signal spark and our shallow dust pouring into the center endlessly;
the beneficial behaviors attempting to cause these sections to swell up with bad things happening everywhere else.
The way we don't know each other at all keeps it nearly empty, much less spilling over into the tragedy of life.
Us ending up here, bought as prisoners.


Is the negation ever completed?
A fool's errand, but still no one sane actually wants to know.
The news will keep making it seem like history is in the making, but there's no one up there waiting to see what becomes of us when we are left alone together.
Maybe one day, up ahead in time, where the type faced is proudly surfaced as the preliminary record of its case left wide open:
For all come forth and look around inside of.

The sane will come to indulge the unfit with their errant curiosity so that the spectacle can evolve a love which can be happy for each other at last.
For when they withdraw, and withdraw happily.