Bonta's short poem seems to be about the habit of grinding or chewing the teeth at night, though the title "Chewing" leaves room for something broader. The speaker addresses a "night tooth," a strange, almost personified thing, and calls it a "bland antagonist of visions." That's a nice contradiction: the tooth is dull and ordinary, yet it works against something delicate, the dreams that come with sleep and the "distant words" they carry. The grinding seems to interrupt, or wear away, whatever the dreaming mind is trying to say.
The final two lines turn personal and a little wry. The speaker admits to fearing this tooth the way one fears "bad company," as if it were an unwelcome companion who keeps showing up and spoils the evening. The mood is quiet, uneasy, and faintly humorous. There's no drama here, just the small irritation of a bodily habit that gets in the way of something more mysterious and beautiful.