Instead of the usual romantic moon, Bonta gives us something unsettling. The speaker sees it as a "plague-smith," a figure who forges disease the way a blacksmith forges iron. The moon's changing phases become a kind of corruption: it shifts from "treasure" to "pit," from something precious to something hollow and dangerous.
The images that follow get more bodily and harsher. The moon is a closed hand that never opens except out of indifference, so it seems to give nothing and care nothing. Then it becomes a "flying wound," swollen by a "bone-fire heart," which suggests pain, infection, and burning all at once.
The speaker doesn't say how they feel outright, but the poem's tone suggests unease, even dread. The moon is not comforting or beautiful here. It feels cold, remote, and quietly threatening, and the mood is dark, feverish, and strange.