If

If

my parents had never left Poland,

my Greek husband

would have lived too far away

for us to meet.

My children would not be my children.

Possums would be squirrels

and dingoes, wolves.

Christmas would be white

night would be day.

I would garnish my dinner 

with pyetrooshka

not parsley,

and laugh at how

Mt. Koshchooshko in Australia

is called ‘Kozeeosko’.

I’d holiday on the Amber,

not the Gold Coast,

drink vodka,

not whisky,

make passionate love to Sigmund,

not Keith or Wayne

and only study,

not learn 

my daily language.

I would be 

a different me

wondering 

what would I be like

if I left

and lived

somewhere else.

Eva Collins