Poet of the Week: Kayleigh Hicks
Kayleigh Hicks is Poet of the Week beginning 20th of February
I am bright yellow
my face twisted into a grin
you’ll wince if you stare too long
sunshine dripping down my chin
none of this is never called into question.
A face without lines to chart my flaws,
openness shown on a vacant expression,
sustaining myself with bottled applause.
I welcome sleep
with open arms
and never injected ink nightmares into my skin,
I do not have scars
pressed into my palms
and never watched myself get thin.
My feet are planted
firmly in this world I live in.
I take life for granted
ignoring the suffering of others;
blinkers made of skin.
I only place importance on my own life.
I’d sell myself to avoid death’s list,
removing the gears, watching the clock unwind
as I press a knife to time’s wrist.
Because
I was never taught
how to be faithful,
silken selfish spun lies
were weaved into my hair,
now I spin my own webs
into the lines I speak.
I am solid steel on my surface
but beneath I am weak,
a pale imitation of a girl
stepping on stage
to whisper my dishonest prayer.
More Coverage
AI firm Anthropic’s scanning initiative is covert book burning for the modern age
Under the guise of ‘Project Panama’, AI company Anthropic is pirating and physically destroying books with hydraulic presses and shredders to feed its large language model, Claude. On the internet, users are drawing on dystopian literature and history to hold them to account.
A bookish guide to Manchester
Our Deputy Books Editors select essential reads, cozy reading spots and the bookish societies available to at University of Manchester
The Kneale Inheritance & New Voices in Horror: Headpress’ 35th anniversary extravaganza
Two events of the day – the work of Nigel Kneale and student-made short horror film The Shedding
Music from the Margins & Sex Murder Art: Headpress’ 35th anniversary extravaganza
Two events of the day – obscure, bizarre music and the films of Jörg Buttgereit with Headpress founder David Kerekes





