A small domestic slip sets off this short poem. Someone in the household has left poppy seeds on the counter, right where the ants used to be. The ants are gone, but the seeds, tiny and dark, take their place. The speaker then admits that the seeds seem to crawl at the edges of their vision.
The poem is about how the mind keeps hold of what has left. The ants have been dealt with, yet the speaker still can't quite relax, and the seeds trick the eye into seeing movement where there is none. The phrase "one of us" suggests a shared home, and perhaps a faint irritation at whoever was careless.
The mood is uneasy but quiet. Nothing dramatic happens. Instead the poem catches a nagging, half-seen feeling, the kind that lingers just out of focus. Its brevity makes that feeling sharper, and the poem ends before it can settle.