For Russell

by Connie Fife

I have learnt that love
 translated by any
 means is worth the
 motion of movement.
 Turned into any words,
 love emerges whole.

 I am certain the simplicity
 of creation becomes a
 fire ignited. That implosion
 leads to the beginnings of
 stars, galaxies.
 Air on tongue.

 New words scattered amongst
 the constellation of one's self
 the birthing of another life.
 The letting go of comet, trail
 blazing behind.
 The blue black of velvet
 crow wing breathing in ear.

Last updated December 19, 2022