The poem begins by saying that a morning can't be reduced to money, or to rest, or even to the strange desires the speaker carries. Something about a morning slips past every attempt to measure or spend it. But the tone shifts in the third stanza, where the speaker admits that "consequences follow us / home with our money." What we earn and spend doesn't stay at the till. It comes back with us.
The last two lines are the unsettling ones. "Where I own people" is a stark, uncomfortable claim, and the speaker doesn't soften it. Placing it "in the company of ice" makes the scene feel cold and detached, as if ownership has drained the warmth from human relationships. The speaker seems uneasy, maybe guilty, aware of being tangled in a system of buying and holding power over others. The mood is spare, chilly and reflective, and the short lines leave the reader to sit with that discomfort.