silent breathe of her

once, far from here, an angel knew
her way to waker’s dreams–
or were they photographs?–
or were they lost in determination?–
either the way, she, in me, was held
without hands nor mind, but in suspension
‘wixt lips’ limits, wide in silent breathe of her,
this, the only angel willed to walk ‘spite her wings,
those risen or drift-in wind cumbersome things