Two people, the "we" of the poem, head toward the "good end of town," a phrase that sounds like it promises comfort or prosperity. What they find is a light, and the poem describes it in an odd, unsettling way: "dull as a white fist / that would not endure surprise." The light isn't welcoming. It feels closed, hard and a little threatening, like a clenched hand.
The last line is the strangest. A fist that "would not endure surprise" suggests something tense and defensive, a place or a mood that can't handle anything unexpected. The speaker seems wary rather than hopeful, as if the better part of town has a brittle, guarded quality under its glow. The poem never says so outright, and the title, "White space," hints at emptiness or blankness.
The mood is quiet, uneasy, and slightly cold. In just five lines, an ordinary walk starts to feel like entering a place that offers light without warmth.