Phillip Hua © 2016 All Rights Reserved


When you return,
you’ll find the turf roughened,

stones stacked up
in meaningless piles,

cairns with no purpose
but fog and obfuscation.

You’ve been away so long
the weather’s changed—

meaning and its manufacture,
by which we thought

we knew the world
long since rearranged.

When you return,
we’ll track the course

of history: both of us
headed for the mainland,

hewing always to some ideal
but blind to life’s exigencies.

Don’t hold to this war’s
cruel embargo—

come back to me,
toughened and worn.

Take up another inch of the bed
for every night you’ve been away.

Do not leave me here
to conjure you home.


C.W. Emerson
Copyright © 2016  

C.W. Emerson is a psychologist in Los Angeles and Palm Springs, California. His work has appeared in Atlanta Review, Cape Stone, G.W. Review, Mantis, Poetry East, Quiddity, Saint Ann’s Review, and other publications. Emerson studies with poet Cecilia Woloch.

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