Three short stanzas, and a feeling of loss runs through all of them. The speaker begins with winter "settling in my mouth," an image of silence and heaviness, as if sadness has turned physical and made speech difficult. The words "still and sad" slow everything down.
Then the poem turns to "you," someone dancing "raw in the world." This figure seems full of movement and exposure, the opposite of the speaker's stillness. Whether the person is remembered, imagined, or simply far away, the poem doesn't say, but the contrast is sharp: one body in motion, one frozen.
The last stanza lands hardest. The speaker says this is the "first night" they have ever lain with a stone, which suggests a new kind of loneliness, perhaps an absence where a warm body used to be. The title, "Molt," hints at shedding an old self, and that fits the raw, stripped-down mood. The poem feels bare, quiet, and cold, but also honest.