An Ordinary Poem
Picking up the trash
brushing past you.
You say: "mind the ice."
I smile seeing a mental picture
of my comic duck-walk.
Half way to the garage
I hear your voice again,
as if your throat was within mine.
I feel your salty gravity
as a presence dipped into my blood.
At the sink,
you kiss my cold fingers,
hum a song from ‘Frozen’,
while stirring hash in a skillet.
The dog is look-listening,
the way dogs do,
head turned sideways,
alert.
Trying to figure out what happens next.
Nothing much does.
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