When you laugh I smell sawdust
in my breath
and I don’t know where
it comes from.
Perhaps tiny men
build mansions in my brain.

I put my hands over my mouth
when you make me laugh
because the insides of mouths are
intimate places
and I don’t want you to
notice my teeth too much.

Sometimes my more sentimental words
get hooked on my teeth
and before I go to bed
I have to scrub hard
to get them out.

I want to find your secrets in
the crevices of your molars,
want to fish them out and
take in their scent,
want to put them in jars
stack them up
line the walls with them.