Overbite: a poem

flesh between enamel pulled

from that inner place deep 

that inner place dark

that inner place wet

I hear the sound 

the click

the clack 

Precise syncopation

It calms. It soothes. It balances 

when life gets too noisy. 

The overbite that sometimes draws that metallic roux. 

It regenerates, ready to serve.

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