A person comes home at the end of the day to find a pile of cards waiting. Instead of a meal, they have ink and a pen, and then they say good night. The title, "Reporter," suggests the speaker may be someone whose work is writing things down, though the poem doesn't spell this out. The cards might be notes, interview material, or messages, and the speaker seems to face them as one more task.
The most striking move is the phrase "ink and pen my supper." Writing replaces food, which hints that work has taken over ordinary life. There is no mention of company, conversation, or rest. The speaker's feeling seems to be a quiet mix of weariness and devotion: tired, yet still turning to the page. The tone is dry and almost cheerful, but the closing "good night" feels a little lonely, as if the speaker is saying it to nobody. The short lines add to this mood, making the evening feel clipped, spare, and brief.