a running list of all the teeth I've lost in dreams

molars: the gravelly crunch when I bit twin bullets

placed near the back of my tongue

*

incisors: I only meant to leave bite marks,

but they stayed behind: blood-tipped, embedded

*

eye teeth: drilled out to make room for the lasers that turned

my smile into something lethal enough for a man

*

canines: as loose and as jangly as coins in my pockets,

they wobbled and wiggled right out of their sockets

*

wisdom teeth: there were no dreams to steal them,

and they were gone when I woke up

*

bicuspids: I remember how they felt on my tongue,

like dice in my palm, like I might spit luck

*

to say nothing of the times they all fell out

and I couldn't scream

*

and every startled waking,

fitting my finger down the solid row of bones

for a bite of reassurance.