The poem is split into two short pieces, and they pull in different directions. The first is quiet and almost tender. A person's belongings, "my stuff," turn into "lace and usage," as if constant exposure and handling have worn them thin and delicate. Lace is full of holes, so the image suggests how little is left of what the speaker owns, yet it also finds an odd beauty in that wear.
The second part shifts to a sharper, more bitter tone. It asks who "approves of the right / to evict people from the street," and the phrasing is pointed. Evicting someone from a street is absurd, since the street is already the place of last resort. The speaker seems baffled and angry that anyone would defend this as a "right." The mood moves from fragile and weary to indignant, leaving us with a sense of how little room society leaves for people who have nothing.