The speaker begins in a vulnerable state, "raw," like skin with no covering, and responds the only way that feels available: with "war." The reaction of the title is defensive and instant. Hurt turns into combat before there is time to think.
The second stanza stretches this out into the night. The image of "another foot coming / for another me" suggests a repeating threat, as if each version of the speaker will be stepped on again and again. The speaker's "private match" seems to be a small, personal act of resistance, perhaps a flame, perhaps a contest only they know about. The odd simile "like a mouth made clean / against tomorrow" gives it a sense of readiness, even purity, as if the speaker is rinsing away hesitation before the next day arrives.
The mood is tense, solitary and wary. There is anger here, but also fear. The poem leaves open whether this fight protects the speaker or only keeps the wound open.