Adoption Day

By MARK KYUNGSOO BIAS

Even if the sky collapses, there will be a hole in it.
Korean proverb

Our cat died before the towers fell.

No one was in the ground yet
when you were

close to coming home. Mom said you couldn’t enter.
Said our country couldn’t trust

the planes. The mother mouth shut to everything
but the wind.

When you close a country, eventually
nothing inside climbs out. Nothing inside

except what climbs out of us. America said,
This is what happens when we let them in.

I swore I would protect you.

Dad reads the homily on the fifteenth anniversary.
Says, God turned

a cloud of smoke into a ring.

A little Korean boy falls through the halo;
a black cat in a shoebox.

 

Mark Kyungsoo Bias is a Korean American poet and educator. He is a 2021 Tin House Scholar and a recipient of the William Matthews Poetry Prize. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Adroit Journal, Asheville Poetry Review, Best New Poets, The Common, PANK, and Raleigh Review, among other publications. He is currently an MFA candidate and REAL Fellow at the University of Massachusetts Amherst and a poetry consultant at GrubStreet. Find him on Instagram @markbias.

[Purchase Issue 23 here.]

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Adoption Day

Related Posts

Feltspade

ELIAS SADAQ
I serve out my conscription / sleep in a bunk bed / for four cold months / in the engineer regiment at Skive Garrison / in a room with three other men / I fuck the colonel / the only sign that time is passing / is a pile of snow outside the window / that grows smaller

Book cover of Fifty Mothers

Mother is a Kind of Holding: Jenny Qi interviews Preeti Vangani

PREETI VANGANI
With vignettes, I could plumb its narrative arc to become a force propelling the book forward. It also felt haunting yet warm that the mothers kept reappearing throughout the life of this grief. That repetition created a chorus of voices that angers and despairs, yet cradles the speaker.

May 2026 Poetry Feature: Arielle Hebert, from Bottom Feeders

ARIELLE HEBERT
Home again at the water’s edge, / palms dancing in salt breeze. / I take a too-deep breath / and the air prickles my lungs / like an unfiltered cigarette. / Only the tourists are swimming, / coughing through the algal bloom, / eyes bloodshot and skin burning.