In this alternate timeline
I think I’d need to be a man,
to walk alone at night
cheerfully drunk and unafraid.
Not a cliché,
leering from the cafe or club
or relishing the small tyrannies of a marriage.
No, someone
softer. More
adventurous.
I sail tourists
around the islands.
Always barefoot,
soft curls in a knot
at the crown of my head.
So tanned
my teeth look nearly white,
like the ruined temples
from a distance.
Limbs tattooed
with the names
of my female ancestors.
When you inevitably arrive,
I take your hand
to help you on my boat,
surprise you
with my tenderness.
Make dark eyes at you
as we dangle our feet
and I tell you
about my island.
I find myself wondering
why, my whole life,
I’ve been drawn
to women like you.
–
Elizabeth Galoozis’s debut full-length collection, Law of the Letter (2025), won Inlandia Institute’s Hillary Gravendyk Prize. She’s been published widely and nominated for two Pushcart Prizes and for Best of the Net. Elizabeth works as a librarian in southern California; find her at @thisamericanliz.