Poetry by Rhys Hughes
THE PSYCHOLOGIST SAID “You have a high IQ,” declared the psychologist and I misheard and thought he said “haiku” which surprised me very much. “Where is it?” I cried in a panic and he laughed as he replied, “Inside your head,” and I clutched my skull in both hands and tried to understand how a short and exquisitely pithy poem had ended up in there. Back home I stared in the mirror but saw nothing out of place on my face and no lumps on my skull. I hope for my sake that the psychologist was mistaken! Japanese pressure waiting to burst on paper— haiku in my head. LASSI COME HOME I had a drink made from yoghurt and spices and fruit. So cute it was! and I loved that beverage like a brother, but times were hard and I was poor and I couldn’t pour anymore of that delicious liquid down my throat. I had to sell it to a wealthy Duke. Away it went and I never expected to see it again until we both were heaven-sent after our demise. How unwise a notion! for this potion was loyal to me and escaped it’s aristocratic prison and made it’s way across the land back to fill the glass in my hand. Come home, Lassi. Lassi, come home.
Rhys Hughes has lived in many countries. He graduated as an engineer but currently works as a tutor of mathematics. Since his first book was published in 1995 he has had fifty other books published and his work has been translated into ten languages.
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