The poem pictures someone living in desperate poverty, probably homeless, and speaks to that person directly as "you." The details are harsh and physical: vomit, feet wrapped in crumpled newspaper, a torn blanket, scraps of stolen fish caught in broken teeth. Even the "sanctuary" is hardly safe, since the winds howl inside it. The title's "Wind Pokes 'Round" makes the cold sound almost like a nosy, unwelcome visitor.
The speaker seems to look on with pity and close attention rather than judgment. Nothing is softened, yet the last lines turn tender. The person coughs "a warm poem" into the blanket, so even a rough, painful sound becomes something creative and alive. The word "warm" stands out against all the cold around it.
The mood is bleak and raw, but a small spark of dignity runs through it. The poem suggests that making something, even in misery and unseen, is a way of surviving.