Chavisa Woods

In the white, early morning
I hang my face
over her head
and kiss the flesh above her brow.

I hang my neck, a bow in the air
and kiss the tiny, tickling hairs above her brow.

In the white light of morning
I hang myself over her
and kiss the flesh of her skull

Her white skull
sleeps in the early morning as I hang myself
to kiss her.

I hang myself to kiss her
as she sleeps in the white, early morning.

She does not wake to my touch.

I hang myself above her
on the white bow
of early morning.

She does not wake to my hanging.

The window is cracked and taped.
The outside air is cold, forceful.

I bend myself
above her sleeping body
to kiss her, gently on the brow.

To kiss her gently on the brow
I hang myself.