Three Poems
Sizing you
The last time I saw you,
your shirt rested on you like
I wanted to.
Well loved and washed often.
A good fit.
Full with life
A small boy in
a yellow jumper
eats his sushi in
one
crinkle-nosed,
flat-handed
mouthful.
Today.
The sky stretches,
air simmers.
My nose pressed into your neck,
smile into your collarbone,
sunscreen, salt, skin,
this infinity moment.
I roll it around my mind
like wine in my mouth,
savouring,
unwilling to swallow.
Elizabeth Lewis
Madam: Archbishop Fisher (July-August 2024) does not resist the attacks on his church by the political, social or scientific atheists and those who insist on not being told what to do.
Aug 29 2024
6 mins
To claim Aborigines have the world's oldest continuous culture is to misunderstand the meaning of culture, which continuously changes over time and location. For a culture not to change over time would be a reproach and certainly not a cause for celebration, for it would indicate that there had been no capacity to adapt. Clearly this has not been the case
Aug 20 2024
23 mins
A friend and longtime supporter of Quadrant, Clive James sent us a poem in 2010, which we published in our December issue. Like the Taronga Park Aquarium he recalls in its 'mocked-up sandstone cave' it's not to be forgotten
Aug 16 2024
2 mins