the rivers of it, abridged

New York City skyline at night


Fall 2007



Jeanne Marie Beaumont

You Are Ash

You hay our horse
You oar our shore
You hoe our area
You shear our hero

You hose our soy
You sear our ore
You rosy our rays
You ear our hares

You sour our rye
You hoarse our hearsay
You rue our era
You sue our arse

You shy our rose
You house our eros
You use our hours
You yore our years

You hear our rush
You say our ruse
You rouse our rash
You share our shoe

You has our sore
You hoary our hue
You sure are easy
You so are ash


Back to Poetry