Organised by

Guernsey Literary Festival

Sponsored by


Supported by

Guernsey Arts

David Smith, Derbyshire

Poems on the Buses Exhibition


Blinking, you are washed up at last. After months of swimming, you have finally reached dry land. You unfurl your old man’s fingers, wrinkled from the wet. The plates inside your head edge still closer, like prim sweethearts. Already, explorers are laying claim to parts of this newly-discovered continent: His father’s eyes. His mother’s nose. Your ears, a distant cousin, newly dead. Once you have realised the stubborn ribs have gone, you will stretch out, uncurling like a fern-frond in some timeless forest. One day too, you will stand on a tidal beach and stare at the sea for the very first time and feel that you have returned to somewhere you once called home.