The Air is the Only
by Howard Moss

The air is the only
Lonely bearer
Of the one breath
Of Love’s wayfarer.
The sea’s too wet
To forgive.
Forget
Its salty ranges:
Change changes.
But sing flesh,
Sinew and bone,
And mostly blood,
The fine wood
In which we hive
The dead and alive,
The hollow vein
And love’s rain.