The title promises a prayer, and the poem delivers one, but not the kind you'd expect from a national day of prayer. Instead of grand hopes for the country, the speaker blesses what's close at hand: a chair, a picture, rice in the evening, the plain fact of being ordinary. Then the list turns stranger and blunter. Error, air, "the company and lead," and finally "shit and hole." Ordinary comfort sits right beside waste and flaws.
The last line, "o state make me thankful," changes the tone. The speaker addresses the state rather than God, which makes it sound half like a plea, half like a dry joke. Being thankful seems to be something the speaker has to be pushed into, or something an official day expects of them. The mood is quiet and wry. The poem seems to find real value in humble, unglamorous things, while gently poking at the idea of being told when and how to give thanks.