In dark, moonlit city streets, Man casts a shadow only as big as his own hat. He tapers to a point like an upside-down pin, with the point drawn, magnet-like, to the moon. He doesn't see the moon itself, but he's aware of its effects, like the light it casts on his hands, which seems to have no ordinary or measurable temperature.
The poem contrasts this generic 'Man' with the "Man-Moth," who comes to the surface only rarely. The moon looks altogether different to the moth-man, who creeps out from beneath a sidewalk and cautiously starts to climb up the side of a nearby building. He believes that the moon is actually a hold in the sky, meaning that the sky won't work to protect the earth. Though he is nervous, he feels the need to examine it.
He climbs fearfully with his shadow trailing him, sure that he'll be able to peek through the hole of the moon as if being squeezed through a tube. Regular man doesn't have such beliefs. Though he's frightened as he climbs, the Man-Moth feels that he has to do what frightens him most. Still, he always fails, falling down but never getting injured.
Back underground, which is his home, he flutters around uncertainly. The doors of the subway trains close too fast for him to comfortably board. Once on board the trains, he never faces in the right direction. The train accelerates so fast, without a signal, that the Man-Moth can't tell how fast it's moving.
At night he has recurring dreams, with patterns in his brain repeating just like the repeating patterns of the train tracks. He doesn't look out the window for fear of the dangerous third rail, which he feels carries extra risk for him. He keeps his hands protectively in his pockets.
The speaker tells the reader that, if they can catch the Man-Moth, they should shine a flashlight in his eye. It's entirely filled by his pupils, which are as black as the night. As he looks back, his eyes close. Then a single tear slips from his closed eye—the only thing he owns, just as a bee owns nothing but its sting. He surreptitiously wipes and swallows it. Or, if you watch him closely, he'll pass you the tear, which is cold and clean enough to drink.
