An act of pouring yogurt into granola and other perverted sexual practices are prohibited here. With millions of flushed contact lenses, the ocean finally found the sky. Skyscrapers with red lights blinking on top remind me of monkeys in heat. This aquarium exhibits more than 10,000 animals that hate human beings. Before sleeping alone, I […]
The Quarry Journal
A journal of creative writing by students at Macquarie University
The Dainty Line, Leanne Wicks
I want to see beyond my borders over the entrenched lies. I am the Australienne submitting to her husband in this land of sweeping pains. Two dead women every week at the hands of men stained with green and guilt. My mother told me so after the horse had trampled. Where are the examples, frontline warnings from […]
Crescents, Evangeline Hester
The world holds crescents in a cerulean sky Jostling with stars that in syncopation lie With the darkness In homes and hearts Tomes and marks Chiselled on the walls Did you pray today did you pray today did You Wash the blood off your hands? The stain on your lands The twist in your parts […]
MelalUKEa Boy, Leanne Wicks
Music Class ‘Where’s your guitar, Dylan? Hop to it, boy.’ He straightened and skipped a half step until sniggers slithered around his legs. Why do teachers say things they don’t mean? Two rows from the front, Dylan held the neck of the borrowed guitar toward Mr D as if it were his own. I must […]
The Migrant, Pooja Biswas
I know these silences of which you speak. they emerge as if from a womb, and recede into the spaces behind your eyes (concave; green-lit), spaces you do not recognise for strangers have trampled upon them & long since left their marks. I know these silences of which you speak. they curl, quiet animals, beneath […]
Mama, Alix Rochaix
Mama, Mama, oh Mama. These are the words I will use to begin your eulogy. No longer forbidden to utter the M-word. Call me Cole, you decreed. Like everybody else. Nicole Elodie Lemaire. That was you. And I was just one of everybody else. Only my lover could tell me that when I writhed in […]
Border Crossing, Pooja Biswas
I set out on a pilgrimage over the northern plains of ice-steeped grass and stones round as knuckles, breezes sharp as kite strings. so far from the sea was I & yet so near to the sky, the clouds hovering like small parachutes, descending bodies […]