The poem opens with a strange, small discovery: a bottle holding "yesterday and incoherence," found between two holes in a coat. The image suggests something precious or confusing that has slipped through the worn places in a life, and been caught by chance. The past here isn't tidy memory. It's muddled, half-readable, bottled up like a message that may not make sense.
The speaker doesn't try to decode it. Instead they ask to be undone by it, "like an anthem with no words," a lovely comparison, since an anthem without words still stirs feeling but can't say what it means. That seems to be what oblivion is here: not simply emptiness, but a pull to surrender to something wordless.
The last lines turn quietly radical. The speaker would give up the sun, with all its light and daily demands, for "time alone." The mood is hushed, tired, and a little yearning, a wish to step out of the bright world and sit with forgetting.