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.