The hours will rout and soothe your souths, your tryouts (for SHH) by Anne Gorrick
Their rhymes fell out of their honeymoon:
teeth from a mouth
The sun outshone itself
Honesty humored them with its drag
cousin
Snotty, snort, snooty, smutty, utmost
Huntsmen crawled along their stone fences
As a couple, they had theories regarding their monotony
Noons stuck
in your mouth
rutty like troutthe hunters looked / for thorns / down your length
Your toys roomed like synonyms
She fingered the bottom of her hem, trying out different forms of
honor
He mouthed the ground for
roots and soot, rust and soon
for their shorn norths rushing out to sea