Marcette, Swamp Hag, speaks here from a place of deep pain. The speaker carries a piece of another person inside, and it hurts so much it feels like being torn apart. Images like a doll "soaked in blood and trapped in shade" make the speaker seem helpless and fragile, something small left in the dark.
Yet the poem doesn't just sink. The speaker suggests that since nihilism is all there is, the two of them might as well build "wings" of strange, hopeful joy and reach for the sky, even as they bleed. That mix of dancing and dying gives the poem its odd, haunting mood: grim, but defiant. By the end, the energy fades. The speaker loses time, sits in a thorn bush, and waits to be taken away. Loneliness has grown so heavy that the trees seem to speak in a "dead language." The final feeling is isolation, with a thin streak of wild hope running through it.