A butcher stands with an ax, ready to cut open an ox, and his mind is crowded with questions he can't yet answer. The poem is only a few lines long, but it holds a sharp tension between the hunger to understand and the cost of looking too closely.
The speaker seems to believe that cutting something open might reveal what he's looking for. "Dissect" suggests he wants more than meat; he wants knowledge. But the last lines turn on him. Seeing red, the raw inside of the animal, means no longer seeing the garden, an image that suggests innocence, peace, or a gentler way of seeing the world.
The mood is stark and uneasy, with a hint of regret. The speaker doesn't sound cruel so much as caught: the act of searching for answers seems to destroy something he can't get back. The poem leaves it unclear whether the answers are worth that loss.