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


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 trout

the hunters looked / for thorns / down your length

Your toys roomed like synonyms

She fingered the bottom of her hem, trying out different forms of


He mouthed the ground for
roots and soot, rust and soon
for their shorn norths rushing out to sea