The speaker goes to the kitchen sink and washes, almost like a ritual, then returns to someone lying on a bed. The poem never says who this person is or what is wrong, but the speaker's hands are wet and the situation feels serious. The comparison to a lover "used to failure" suggests someone who has tried to help before and not managed it. Their grasp is like crystal slipping away: delicate, beautiful, and easily broken.
The last lines are the most striking. Trying to "bring together / bits of / flesh" sounds like an attempt to mend something torn, perhaps a body, perhaps a relationship, and the effort only causes more bleeding. The poem seems to say that the wish to heal can hurt. The mood is quiet, tense, and sorrowful, with a feeling of helplessness. The short, broken lines and the gaps between them mimic hesitation, as if the speaker is afraid of what will happen next.