In my angel arms I ride
I hide in my angel arms that sail
me patiently unchastizing me home.
I remember the arms,
the angel arms that bore me
from my womb over all the
sands that changed from cotton to teeth.
Can I hold others in my arms?
Are my arms the arms of angels?
Can my breath move the wings to soar?
Can my singing angel stand my competition?
Can I go home now?