Ordinary Poem
Picking up the trash
I brush past you.
You say "mind the ice."
Underneath the concern---humor,
a mental picture
of my comic duck-walk.
Half way to the garage
I hear your voice again,
as if your throat
were joined to my belly.
You sing to yourself
as you fix a meal,
I feel your salty gravity
as a carnelian
dipped in my blood.
I carry you back to the kitchen
still singing in my breast.
At the sink,
you wash and kiss my cold fingers
as sotto voce,
you reprise a song from ‘Frozen,’
while stirring hash in a skillet.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
