In just three short lines, the poem catches a small, awkward moment: someone is speaking to a woman and, while they do, their fingers wander to a hole in their coat. The title, "Tic," suggests a nervous habit, something the body does without being asked.
The speaker never says how they feel, and that is the point. The hand does the confessing. Picking at a hole is what people do when they are nervous, shy, or unsure what to say. It hints at self-consciousness too, since the hole is a flaw, a bit of shabbiness the speaker may be worried she will notice. Or perhaps they are simply distracted, drawn to something small and safe while the conversation feels risky.
The mood is quiet, tender, and a little embarrassed. The poem gives us almost nothing, yet we can picture the scene clearly: the glance away, the restless finger, the words that matter more than they let on. The gap in the coat quietly mirrors the gap the speaker may feel in the conversation.