Against the back drop of snow-
tipped teeth of the north Tirol,
teeth that gnaw at the eyes.
Steam vents out of a hotel chimney:
thick, greyer than snow, unfurling
a sky dragon’s tail tipping, turning,
curling with wind whispering it
fainter, wider, fainter, wilder
swirls of nothingness,
sometimes too wild, then
suddenly soft and dissipating.
All meaning of life inferred here
with the unmovable mountains
rising to continental conductors,
falling if a million years of water insists.
As I stare I know I am closer
to the steam molecules than stone,
to scattering snow than still conifers.
Matthew James Friday has had over 60 poems published in many UK and worldwide magazines and journals, including, recently: The Brasilia Review (Brazil), Dawntreader (UK), New Contrast (South Africa), Sheila Na-Gig (USA) and Poetry Salzburg (Austria). A mini-chapbook titled All the Ways to Love is forthcoming with the Origami Poems Project (USA).