Mark Kyungsoo Bias

Routine Maintenance

We conduct the chemicals among the chattering

silverware. Last month, Dylan overdosed. We tally

who’s left. This machine still operating. I see an

opening through the counterparts and step aside.

Because leaving takes too much. It takes timing.

Tell me, what was the hardest part of living?

Don’t think I don’t know how the vectors keep

changing. It’s impossible to sit still in this hour

with the cathedral in mind—the organ filling

the most unremarkable spaces. I’ve seen how

differently people die. Death crawling into the

eyes. Faces dulling in the face of it.