The speaker feels death and longing arriving indirectly, through other things rather than head-on. The title, "Displaced," fits: nothing here is felt in its own place. Instead the poem piles up strange images. The speaker falls into a white sea, grows as fierce as ivy, and is "very big with child." Judging by these lines, the body seems to be going through something huge and out of control, whether that is literal pregnancy or a larger kind of change that pregnancy stands in for.
What stands out is the flat calm of the last lines. "I expect to live / but continue / in pain" offers no comfort and no drama, just a plain statement. The single word "So." closes things off like a shrug, or a held breath. The mood is tense and strangely steady: overwhelmed, a little wild, yet resigned. The speaker is not rescued, only enduring, and the short, broken lines make that endurance feel fragile and real.