The speaker talks about their own body as if it were something foreign: a "carcass" they live and walk in, as ordinary as dirt. The string of "out of" phrases (wine, money, the way, hand) makes it sound worn out and short of everything, and the last one, "out of hand," hints at things slipping beyond control. The body is both poor and a little unruly.
Then comes a darker thought. The speaker considers getting rid of it, or at least no longer having to look at it, this "fire and flesh." There's a tired, almost matter-of-fact weariness in that wish rather than drama. But the body won't be ignored. Its bones "turn" and give the speaker away, exposing them "for a flock." The title, "Mob rule," suggests the body may act like a crowd with a will of its own. The poem suggests a person who feels trapped in an ordinary, failing body, and the mood is bleak and wry, with a thread of dark humor.