Nun-like in her robes of indigo,
the violet may well have taken the vow.
(Melinda Smith, ‘Safina. I. Rabi’a. I watch him pass below my window’, Southerly 76.3)
The memorable image of butterflies dying to become brown leaves evokes both our sense of being late to experience―of missing out―as well as the limits placed on our ability to fully comprehend experience.
(Darius Sepehri, ‘Judith Wright’s The Shadow of Fire and making the ghazal appropriate for Australia’, Southerly 76.3)
Bound in green leather, the book looks like a rare first edition with flaking gold writing on the spine and vanilla pages.
(Cassandra Atherton, ‘The live sparrow of translation’, Southerly 76.3)
oh how small the world is!
you’re just moving
from one shore of the Pacific to the other
stones are the same stones
the moon is the same moon
as is the orange melancholy of sycamore leaves
(Zahra Taheri, ‘Rainless may’, tr. Bijan Mottahedeh, Southerly 76.3)
That he was able to express himself in a language not his own was deeply impressive to me, though I never admitted that to him; I just covered his pages in small red marks.
(Adele Dumont, ‛This is not a conversation about asylum seekers’, Southerly 76.3)
As Jean-Martin Charcot perceived over a century ago (1889: 382), “hystero-traumatic” symptoms may be related to an invisible yet actual brain process, “a dynamic lesion affecting the motor and sensory zones of the grey cortex of the brain.”
(Josephine Taylor, ‘Mark my words’, Southerly, 76.2)