Faylita Hicks: He Puts a Knife to the Throat of a Woman

Faylita Hicks: He Puts a Knife to the Throat of a Woman

Dating On Campus (Circa 2015)


He puts a knife to the throat of a woman to see if she screams; covers her lips with his

fists—hopes she forgets how to bite— tears at her jeans; remarks I can love you too.


Not a girl or a child—she digs until the bottom is ever an open well, drowns silently—until

her skin is water, warped and nothing but a bridge between his heat and her rage. In the colleges,


they will call this culture. Theorize on its prevention, pretend that there is an answer to this inheritance, empathize with a million years worth of perforated cunts and their so burdened hips.


Yet, there will still be this:

"When you cut, at first you are unaware; innocent even—for now—when first you cut.”


Yet, there will still be this:

 "See how she moves. Watch how she hums. She is the hungry moon, we are her fated stars."


He will love her to death. No one will stop him.


About My Daughter Who I Gave A Way


One day, she will notice gravel under her toes;

Calluses on the sole and heel; remark on the way


The sun slants its face whenever she approaches;

Whisper my name until it sounds like home—


And wonder—about all the years I ever was;

The prelude to her epic.


Being the woman who gave her: Two Names

Or Two Cities or Two Plagues; I relate


To the distinction between those fine lines

And these ditches. I have written her poems.


So many poems, my body is wet papyrus;

My tongue a vinegar glaze. I want to explain:


I whittle sound for a living; hatchet suns

In the back of a parlor, interpret chaos for quarters


And free coffee. I don’t know what this will mean to her,

If it ever does mean. I want to warn her about happiness;


Lesson her on the making of; suggest the ways in which to avoid it

Because the question of where she began will always ride her


Like a stallion from the red dirts of Oklahoma; hover

In her ear like a squealing wheel on the back half of the last train


Or an echo still hot on the broken floors of a cave in Taos.

Crested by a thousand nights of wondering, she will roam until


Finally she knows what it is to begin to end.

Faylita Hicks is a poet, rapper, spoken word artist and public speaker based in San Marcos, TX. She is currently a MFA Candidate in the Creative Writing Program at Sierra Nevada College.