The speaker is anxious, and the poem shows that anxiety as a kind of collage. Her heart becomes a surface covered in torn scraps: pieces of memory, friends' faces that look flattened, and "a quarter of my granddaughter's life." That last image is the most striking. It suggests time with a loved one that has been lost or missed, though the poem never says why. The opening line, with its "unmasked riff-raff," hints at a troubling dream, and the word "unmasked" may point to a world where people's faces are suddenly exposed or unfamiliar. That is only a guess from the imagery.
The question "Will I ever have glue enough?" sounds worried and a little helpless. Then the poem shifts. The last four lines work like a chant, as "Emergency" shrinks into "Emergence," then "Emerge," then "Resurge." The word loses its panic and turns into a push to rise again. The mood moves from fear and fragmentation toward a fragile, determined hope.