I got on the bus and stared out The window not realising what was happening.

I saw a face, a face I remembered Those eyes, those lips, that scar I just can’t remember where.

Those eyes they sat and stared Those lips moved they curled into a smile That scar moved as the lips grew wider.

Who are you?

I felt the bus jerk to a sudden stop My eyes flicked open as the automatic doors swung inwards and Those eyes Those lips That scar stepped onto the bus

By Sara Ciendinning, 15, who receives an anthology of Matthew Sweeney’s verse. Submitted by Angela Rayner of Trinity Catholic School, Woodford Green, Essex, who receives the Poetry Society’s teachers’ newsletter, a quarterly bulletin which includes features on innovative approaches to poetry in the classroom as well as news on the latest resources, events and issues. For Poetry Society events, ring 071 240 4810.

I liked the use of the title as a sinister refrain, and the cinematic mystery with which the poem unfolds. We are just given the bare bones of the narrative, and are left to imagine the rest. The poem, rightly, sets up questions, not answers.