169 4 Encounters At immigration we queue Nervously and practise English in our heads: Yes-thank-you-officer. I know I am not at home When talking makes my tummy turn And I rehearse what I say Like lines from a play Before opening my mouth. At baggage reclaim The laundry bag Coasts around the carousel And people look. Someone points, So Mama says, ‘Leave it, Kasienka. There’s nothing in that bag but long Underwear. We won’t need them here. We’ll need galoshes.’ Mama is right: The air in England is swampy, The sky a grey blanket. And rain threatens To drench us. a tummy – magi to rehearse – æfa to coast around the carousel – að snúast á farangursbelti galoshes – gúmmískór swampy – hér: blautt to drench – bleyta í gegn
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