Fracture Line

She said open. I opened.

Three years of nothing

and now fluorescent light

on every clenched thing.

The X-ray clipped to the lightbox:

my jaw, a gray country,

one hairline crack through the second molar

I didn't know was splitting.

She asked about stress.

I laughed, which is hard to do

with your mouth that wide —

it comes out wrong, a sound

you didn't agree to.

Months of grinding in my sleep,

the tooth fracturing so slowly

the nerve never bothered

to report it.

She said we'll watch it.

I said sure.

I'm good at watching things

break without mentioning it.