Big Apple

by Shamima Begum

It’s warm in the airport
But I shiver at the thought
Of landing in London.
I want my Gap top,
Packed in the suitcase11 hours ago.

The smell of aftershave lingers
On me
After saying my goodbyes
To the bodyguards
Total strangers nine days ago.

We hide our faces under
Our newly given NYPD caps.
Under your Nike brim
You come and hold me,
Your tears wet on my shoulder.

From the wing side window, a glimpse
Of the light speckled city.
Only days ago
The trees were bombing
Red and golden leaves.

A soggy tissue in my hand
Just in case.