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#025
Gabriel Forrest
Sonnet Initially on -yx
after Mallarmé
Whispers within an infolded calyx.
The mad girl who plucked the stars for her tongue
Learned to grow down, densified to onyx,
And speaks, from this vantage, lakelike lalangue.
I doublecrossed Acheron, you oathed on Styx,
The shadow of fate’s axe between us hung.
(Snake-eye, pebble, on you my eyes affix –
Sound a broken note, emit bremsstrahlung!)
To the deeps of a primal landscape I go,
Hoping ripes the dark, encircling rainbow.
Time’s crucifix will melt to epektasis.
All that remains is love – I cannot know.
I sit, awaiting the rock’s ecdysis,
No axe between us, but a rosined bow.
***
Gabriel Forrest is a writer from Southwest Missouri..
18 November 2025