Loving A Dictator Poem by peauladd huy

My love, we've done so well.
Why now resort

to tactics of your old self?
You do see. You do see
you do not need to bring this child
into the speaking of man's, to be in language

years beyond his age. Do you see
he cannot comprehend, taking proclamation
for declaration of guilt, taking offense
when a prophesy is not to your liking?

A prophesy is like wind: a wind is a wind, my love
where it goes it goes; where it stirs it stirs;
what it says it says
freely, what whispers can make truth of ear.

Being this child has not done you well.
Put off this old self of yours; this old child does not belong
in your council of ministers. Come back
to the circle, to the real talk

of man for man. For our goodness, remember
my darling, if I didn't love you, I would not say.